Out of the Past
by j3of25
Summary: A mysterious woman appears from Steve's past and drags him into mystery and danger. Who is she? Why does she have such a hold on him? Will he survive to solve the crime?-STORY COMPLETE!
1. Default Chapter

`This is a piece of fan fiction. It is written for pleasure and not for profit. The characters Steve and Mark Sloan, Jesse Travis and Amanda Bentley/Livingstone and Captain Newman are borrowed for the purposes of this story. All other characters are my own.  
  
Summary: A woman from Steve's past returns to his life and drags him into an international incident where it's unclear who can be trusted. His involvement with her threatens his relationships with all those he loves. Who is she and why does she have such an effect on him? Despite his unexplained behaviour will Mark, Jesse and Amanda be able to help him solve the crimes and stay alive.  
  
(Thanks (I think!) to my friend Lesley who before I'd even finished the last story said- I've got this scene….. and that's where I started.)  
  
This story contains some violence so I would rate it PG  
  
OUT OF THE PAST  
  
Part 1 - A voice out of time.  
  
Steve curled his body round the sleeping form next to him, feeling the warmth of the soft skin against his. He listened to the ravages of the autumn storm that raged outside, the contrast of which served to make him feel even more secure and content holding the woman he loved under the warm covers. He settled down to a peaceful and contented sleep.  
  
He had been seeing Alison for almost two months now and after all of his disastrous relationships of the past, it finally looked like he might have found someone with whom he could share his life .  
  
It was early days yet but Alison was smart, beautiful and independent and everybody, especially Steve, loved her. They had been spending more and more time together and for the last week or so had stayed together every night at her place or at his. On the occasions that she had stayed at the beach house they had even started eating breakfast upstairs with Mark. It seemed so natural and comfortable as though she was already part of the family.  
  
It was a long time since Steve could remember feeling so happy.  
  
Suddenly the peace was disturbed by a ringing phone. 'What now?' he thought, lamenting the fact that he was a homicide detective. He picked up the receiver.  
  
The woman ran through the night. She was wearing a light dress and thin coat that were no match against the storm. They had both become soaked through long ago. Her dark hair was plastered down against her forehead forming straggled trails that contrasted with her porcelain pale skin. Her feet pounded against the pavement making her thin shoes squelch as water was forced out of them only to fill again as the rain and groundwater soaked back into them.  
  
Her breathing was ragged and uneven as she ran on, occasionally looking behind her, afraid of what she might see, but even more afraid not to look. If they had found her, were catching up with her, she had to know.  
  
She spotted the telephone box up ahead when she was still a quarter of a mile from it. She had just been getting to the point of exhaustion, where she did not feel she could go on any more. Her legs felt like lead, her muscles refused to respond properly and her tortured lungs hurt with every breath, as she forced air in and out. The sight of the telephone gave her renewed hope, a goal to aim for, she forced her tired body on.  
  
Reaching the phone she pulled the door open and threw herself inside. Leaning heavily against the side of the booth she attempted to gather her thoughts, but now that the headlong flight and physical exertion had stopped a wave of emotion claimed her, and she began to sob hysterically. Unable to think, unable to focus, the fear and distress washed over her. All she could do was lean back and cry.  
  
It was the headlights of a passing car that finally snapped her back to her senses. As it appeared a flood of adrenaline coursed through her system as fear gripped her. Her stomach knotted and she held her breath until it drove past and was well out of sight. Eventually she released the breath in a long sigh and, with a new clarity of thought, she made the decision to do something that she had sworn to herself she would never do.  
  
She fumbled around in her pocket and pulled out a small black address book. The edges were damp and she prayed that the rain water had not obscured the entries. She turned quickly to find the page she was looking for, and then ran her finger across all of the crossings out, until she found the number she needed. She then turned her attention to the phone. She searched her pockets again and mercifully found some change. Picking up the receiver she dialled.  
  
Suddenly the peace was disturbed by a ringing phone. 'What now?' Steve thought, lamenting the fact that he was a homicide detective. He picked up the receiver. "Sloan here," he answered as he heard it connect.  
  
"Steve," a hesitant female voice said from the other end. "Steve, it's me"  
  
Steve sat bolt upright in bed instantly alert and awake. His movement was so sharp that Alison stirred "What's up," she slurred still half asleep.  
  
Steve managed to drag his mind back from the whirlwind of thoughts, memories and emotions that were assaulting it long enough to cover the receiver and say "Sh it's nothing, go back to sleep." Alison rolled over reassured and drifted obediently back to sleep.  
  
Steve turned his attention back to the phone in his hand. There had been a long pause the voice at the other end of the line sounded panicky as it asked "Steve… are you there?"  
  
"Yes," Steve answered his voice sounded a little shaky. "I'm here. My god it's really you isn't it? It's really you?"  
  
There was relief from the woman at the other end. He still remembered her. For the first time in days she relaxed a little. "Yes, It's really me."  
  
From her voice Steve could tell that she had smiled when she had repeated the word 'really' no doubt amused by his disbelief but it had been… Steve took a moment to work it out. It had been thirty years since he had last seen her and yet at the sound of her voice all of the intervening time had melted away, all of the memories and emotions were as sharp, as raw as if it had only been yesterday.  
  
Lost in his thoughts there had been another long pause when he had not spoken. "Emma," he finally whispered.  
  
"Yes, Steve."  
  
He closed his eyes and shook his head trying to clear it. "What?… How can?… Why?…" He started to ask some of the questions that were forming in his mind, but the emotional assault was so strong he didn't know how to start. He couldn't keep the thought patterns straight enough to ask anything coherent.  
  
"Steve," she interrupted him. "Do you remember what the last thing you ever said to me was?"  
  
The image of that final meeting was engraved on his soul. "Yes I remember," he said his voice quiet and tight as he endeavoured to control the emotions that the memory was evoking. "I said that if you ever needed me I would be there for you."  
  
"And did you mean it?"  
  
"You know I did."  
  
"Then I need you Steve. I need you now."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"I'm not exactly sure. I'm in a phone booth on a link road North of the city."  
  
"Give me the number, I'll find it." Steve said grabbing a pen and a piece of scrap paper. She read out the number from the phone. "Stay put I'll be there within the hour."  
  
"OK Thanks."  
  
"Emma.." Steve started.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
Steve had so many questions, so much that he wanted to know, he still did not know where to start. "Nothing, I'll get there as soon as I can." He hung up and started to get dressed.  
  
Emma leant back in the phone booth and allowed herself a little hope. Maybe she could survive this after all. Then she decided that she couldn't stay where she was, it was too visible to anyone passing on the road. She would be too easy a target. Reluctantly she left the shelter that it provided and moved back out into the wind and rain of the storm. She moved off the road and slipped behind some trees, taking up a hiding place where she could clearly see both the road and the phone. She settled down to wait.  
  
When Steve was ready he looked over at the bed and thought for the first time about what he was doing, up to now he had just been reacting. Here he was dashing out in the middle of the night, in the middle of a storm, to meet up with a woman he hadn't seen in thirty years. He thought about trying to explain it to Alison and knew that he couldn't. He equally knew that he had to go. Whatever it cost him, she had asked for his help and he had to go.  
  
He resolved to leave Alison a note. He would explain it to her when he knew more himself. He found a pen and paper  
  
Alison,  
  
Got called out at around 2am.  
  
Did not want to wake you.  
  
Give my love to dad.  
  
See you tomorrow,  
  
love Steve.  
  
He read it back to himself, satisfied he left it on the pillow. He had not lied to her, the fact that she would assume that it was police business and it wasn't couldn't be helped. He collected his things and left as quietly as he could.  
  
Steve had got a location on the phone booth by calling it in to dispatch. He pulled out on the highway and drove as quickly as he dared through the raging wind and torrential rain. His thoughts and emotions were in turmoil as he drove on autopilot, not really consciously seeing where he was or thinking about his driving, somehow he kept his vehicle on the road and headed in the right direction. After about thirty minutes driving he knew he was close and he began scanning the roadside for the phone booth.  
  
The man entered the office holding a piece of paper. "Excuse me sir but we just picked something up from the local police dispatch within the search area." He spoke hesitantly unsure of how his superior would react. "A local police detective requested the location of a phone booth, he did not give a reason. It could be nothing….. but you told us to monitor for anything unusual...and" The young man was nervous and sweating. He knew from bitter experience that it did not do to bother his superior unnecessarily.  
  
"Call Dobbs get him to check it out," the older man interrupted, curtly.  
  
"Yes sir," the young man said relieved, being told to react to information was the closest he ever got to approval from his boss, who was reticent about giving praise. If only he were equally reticent about showing his displeasure. The man turned and left the office to make the call.  
  
Steve saw the phone booth up ahead and slowed down. His stomach was full of butterflies as though he were a teenager again about to go on a first date. His emotions whirled from anticipation to joy to pain to anxiety and back again, so fast that he could not follow them. By the time he brought his vehicle to a stop he was exhausted from the emotional onslaught.  
  
As he stared at the glass sides of the booth and realised it was empty his feelings did another cartwheel. Where was she? Was he in the right place? Was he too late? Had he imagined the whole thing? A combination of fear and uncertainty took over. He climbed out of the truck ignoring the driving rain and ran over to the booth. He pulled the door open and checked the number. It was the one she had given him. Damn, where was she?  
  
"Steve?"  
  
The voice came from behind him. He recognised it instantly just as he had recognised it less than an hour earlier on the phone. He whirled round and caught his breath. Thirty years and half a world away since he had last seen her, and still she took his breath away.  
  
The rain had soaked through his clothing and plastered his hair against his skin. It ran in rivulets down his cheek but he did not even notice it. He opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. All he could do was stand and stare at this vision from his past.  
  
"You came," she stated.  
  
Finally he found his voice. "Did you ever doubt it?"  
  
She considered the question. "No, I knew that if I asked you would come." She took a step closer to him. "Thank you."  
  
She was standing barely a foot away and he reached out his hand but he could not bring himself to touch her. Instead he traced the outline of her face with his fingers a few centimetres away caressing the air with his touch. It was as though he was afraid that actually making contact would shatter the illusion and she would disappear again. "My God you're still beautiful," he said. His voice barely above a whisper. He dropped his arm back to his side.  
  
She stepped even closer and reached out and touched his arm. He caught his breath again. It was as though she'd sent an electric shock through his system with her touch. The physical contact sent his mind reeling again. He had been operating in a half daze, not sure if this was real or illusion, but now that he felt her touch on his skin, he knew that it was real. She was real. The woman he had given his heart to so long ago and thought he would never see again was standing before him.  
  
She moved closer still and cupped his face in her hand. There was that jolt of electricity again. She gently pulled his head down to hers, he did not resist. Their lips met and the sensation was a thousand times stronger than the touch as every nerve ending in his body seemed to fire in response. The kiss lasted only a few seconds but it felt like an eternity and then she pulled back.  
  
"Thank you," she said again.  
  
Steve was confused not sure why he was being thanked. He asked the question. "What for?"  
  
"For being the only man…." She paused and corrected herself. "For being the only person I know I can trust."  
  
Part 2 - Captured  
  
The moment he had heard her voice Steve had been lost to her again. Now that he stood facing her he was overwhelmed by the emotions that he felt. He stood and stared at her in the dim of the street lights.  
  
Emma too was overwhelmed, in all those years she had kept track of him, followed his life and career, she had never dared contact him. She had known how she would feel and she had been right. As she stood and stared into his steel blue eyes, she regretted again the mistake she had made all of those years before when she had walked away from him. She loved him now as she had loved him then.  
  
Neither of them was sure what to do or say next so they both just stood and stared as the rain beat down on them and the wind whipped through their thin clothing but neither of them noticed.  
  
How long they would have remained just standing and staring at each other they would never know. Seemingly from nowhere their two assailants appeared and broke their trance. The sound of the two men approaching had been covered by the storm. Their movement only noticed when it was too late to do anything.  
  
Steve felt the cold muzzle of the pistol in his back at the same instant that he saw the man appear behind Emma, her eyes widening with fear.  
  
Emma's first reaction was one of shock. She had been through so much and just when she was starting to hope, they had found her, caught her. She had let her guard down for a minute when Steve had arrived and now it was all over. 'When Steve had arrived!' Her expression changed from one of terror to one of betrayal. So she couldn't trust him after all. The only way they could have found her so quickly was if Steve had led them here!  
  
"Freeze," The man behind Steve said unnecessarily. The gun in the small of Steve's back precluded him from taking any other than suicidal action. "Hands in the air."  
  
Both Steve and Emma raised their hands but, apart from following his instructions, Steve's attention was not on the gun man it was on Emma. He watched the emotions play across her face. First fear, no, stronger than that, terror at the realisation that these men were here. She knew them. Then her expression changed. She looked him directly in the eyes accusingly, the suggestion of betrayal written clearly in her features as she voiced her charge. "Steve? You brought them here. I thought I could trust you! I just told you….."  
  
"No," Steve interrupted horrified by what she was thinking of him. "I don't know how… I didn't bring them here. You have to believe me." He looked at her pleadingly, willing her not to think badly of him.  
  
The man behind Steve was not interested in their conversation. He pushed Steve roughly forward. "Stand over there with her."  
  
Steve stumbled toward Emma until he was standing at her side. He held her gaze as he moved, still ignoring for the moment the men with guns. It was important to him that she believed in him, that she maintained that faith which she had clearly held from when they had last met. The faith that he was someone she could trust.  
  
"Please, you were right, you can trust me." He searched her face for a sign that she believed him. "It wasn't me."  
  
As quickly as she'd doubted him Emma knew that she was wrong. The expression on Steve's face, the tone of his voice, his body language, everything about him told her that he was as surprised as she had been. He had not betrayed her. He could not betray anyone. How ever Dobbs had found her it had not been with Steve's help.  
  
Only moments before she had told Steve she could trust him and had seen the pleasure in his eyes that her faith in him had brought. Now she could equally see the pain she had inflicted by her rapid change and accusation. She regretted the chain of events, no before that, the life, that had made her so mistrustful, so willing to believe that anyone and everyone would lie, cheat and betray you in their own interest. She smiled at Steve trying to repair the hurt. "No, I'm sorry, I know you didn't. I meant what I said earlier- I trust you."  
  
Relieved Steve smiled back, still interested only in his companion. He was dragged back to the reality of their predicament as the man who had pushed him ordered the other to frisk them both.  
  
Obeying his orders, the younger of the two men started with Steve, making a very thorough and professional job of checking him for weapons. Steve had nothing on him. His wallet, ID and gun were all in the glove compartment of his truck.  
  
When the man had finished frisking him and had moved on to Emma, Steve looked properly for the first time at the man who now held a gun on them. He was in his early forties, around 6', balding and heavy set. The years had not been kind to him. His skin hung more loosely than it should and was creased with lines that belonged on the face of an older man. The scowl that he now wore did not enhance his appearance. He wore a dark suit and overcoat and had an air of authority about him. He was clearly used to giving his companion orders.  
  
"Who are you? What do you want?" Steve asked looking the man straight in the eye. He did not want to declare himself as a police officer until he knew what he was dealing with and was relieved that he did not have his badge on him for them to find.  
  
"I don't think you're in any position to ask questions." The man replied making a slight motion with his gun to emphasise the point. "Besides Mrs Fielding knows only to well who I am, don't you?"  
  
Steve turned to look at Emma. The look of terror had returned to her face. "Yes, I know who you are Dobbs." Despite her fear she could not control her hatred and anger. "You're a traitor and a murderer." She almost spat the last words.  
  
"My, my you do have some guts. I'll give you that." Dobbs said looking her directly in the eye. She returned his stare. "But if I'm so bad why don't I just kill you now?"  
  
"Because you want some information from me." Emma replied the hostility clear in her voice.  
  
"Yes and you know how important that information is."  
  
"Important enough for you to kill for?" Anger and fear fought for control as Emma continued to stare the man down.  
  
Steve stood and watched the exchange trying to decide what to do. He had no idea what they were talking about or what he had involved himself in.  
  
"Possibly, but you are wrong about me I am no traitor. Just tell me what I need to know and we can wrap this whole thing up here and now." Dobbs continued.  
  
"You know I'll never tell you." Emma replied defiantly  
  
"Then we'll have to try some persuasion." Dobbs nodded to his companion who moved to strike Emma.  
  
Despite the threat of the gun Steve moved in to block the blow. Emma was forced back as Steve placed himself between her and the other man who now fortunately shielded Steve from Dobbs' view, so that he could not get a clean shot.  
  
Having blocked the blow cleanly with his left hand Steve followed with a punch to the man's abdomen with his right. The would be attacker cried out in pain and doubled over slightly. Steve brought his left hand back down and struck the man cleanly across the jaw. Recovering a little the man did the only thing he could to prevent taking further punishment and moving forward he grabbed Steve, pulling him in so that he did not have the room to punch, in a classic boxer's hold. They grappled like this for a few seconds. Steve used his superior strength to begin to push the man away.  
  
By this time however Dobbs had repositioned himself. He struck Steve with the butt of his gun hard across the back of his neck.  
  
Steve felt the sharp pain just above his shoulder blades at the same time as he heard Emma's yelled warning and then the world around him phased out for a second or two. As his senses began to return he realised that he was lying on the wet road with Emma kneeling beside him. He looked up directly into the barrel of Dobbs' gun. The man he had fought was dabbing at some blood running down from his lip. Steve decided that the best course of action was to pretend that he had been hurt worse than he was and hopefully persuade them to let their guard down. So he groaned and dropped his head back down onto his arm.  
  
Emma looked up at the man she already hated with renewed animosity. "Leave him alone he's not part of this." She said concerned at the pain Steve was already suffering for her. Why had she called him? It was her fault that he was now in danger.  
  
Dobbs grinned at her. "Maybe I was using the wrong strategy," he said. "You two seem to be more than just acquaintances Mrs Fielding. I wonder if your husband knew about this? Anyway, if you won't talk to save yourself, maybe you'll talk to save your 'friend' here" He nodded slightly at the other man who smiled appreciatively. He drew back his foot and aimed a violent kick at Steve's ribs.  
  
The whole of Steve's side exploded in pain taking his breath away and wiping his mind momentarily of all other thought. A yell escaped his lips as the air was forced from his lungs and he rolled on to his side clutching at the site of the pain with his hands. For a couple of minutes he did not have to pretend to be incapacitated.  
  
"No!" Emma yelled as she watched the violent attack. She looked up at Dobbs "Stop it. Don't hurt him."  
  
Dobbs kept his voice impassive as he said. "Then tell us what we want to know."  
  
"I can't," the frightened woman replied.  
  
With a slight nod from Dobbs the next kick impacted Steve's abdomen.  
  
"No!" Emma yelled again. "Stop please. You have to stop this."  
  
Dobbs bent closer to her. "Then give us the information."  
  
Emma was close to hysterics now, tears were streaming down her cheeks. "I can't tell you.." She saw Dobbs about to move again. "No please, you have to believe me I can't tell you because I don't remember." Emma was now telling the truth. No more bravado, no more running away. She could not let them hurt Steve any more because of her. She knew what these men wanted but the truth was she had lost her memory, at least of the piece of information they needed from her. She now had to convince them that that was the truth.  
  
The man kicked Steve again. He groaned loudly and tried to curl into a ball. His hands moving protectively across his face.  
  
"No!" Emma screamed. "Stop, I honestly don't remember. You have to believe me. You have to stop." Each word was now accompanied by a sob as her hysteria rose. How could she convince them she was telling the truth?  
  
"I'm tired of this." Dobbs said. "Let's just shoot him and get out of here." He aimed the comment at his companion.  
  
Emma gasped. Dobbs turned to look at her. "Unless you give me a good reason not to," he cocked the trigger and pointed the gun at Steve's head.  
  
Emma stared up at him. Time seemed to stand still as the hammer drew back. She knew that there was only one thing that would save Steve's life. The information that Dobbs wanted and she did not know what that information was! 


	2. 

Part 3 - Fighting Back  
  
Emma quickly came to the conclusion that they were not going to believe the truth. The only hope for Steve was to try to bluff them. " All right," she said trying to speak as calmly as she could, but her voice shook with emotion despite her best efforts. "I'll tell you what you want to know just don't hurt him any more."  
  
Dobbs stared into her eyes and smiled. He had won. His strategy had been the right one He had broken her. He uncocked the pistol and returned to a more relaxed stance but he kept the gun aimed at Steve's prone form just in case.  
  
Steve listened to what was happening and waited for an opportunity. Only the first kick had caused any real damage. Once he knew what was coming Steve had watched for and rolled with the following two kicks. Keeping with his earlier strategy of pretending that they hurt more than they did, he had groaned with each one. It would not be true to say that they had not hurt at all but they had not inflicted the damage they were undoubtedly intended to do. It meant that Steve was far more ready to retaliate than either of his attackers imagined, giving him the element of surprise.  
  
For a few moments when Dobbs cocked the hammer on the pistol and threatened to shoot him, Steve regretted his choice of strategy. He held his breath. If Dobbs pulled the trigger it would all be over. Steve had faced death many times before and felt the familiar knot of fear in his stomach as he waited, helpless, unable to do anything to defend himself, knowing that any movement from him at that moment would make Dobbs fire. Perhaps he should have fought back earlier?  
  
The relief when Emma agreed to tell Dobbs what he wanted, even if it was only a stall, was immense. He heard Dobbs uncock the gun and sensed him relax as he smugly waited for Emma to continue.  
  
As the immediate threat against his life subsided Steve let out the breath he had been holding as a sigh, quickly covering it with a groan. He had to keep the two men believing that he was only semi-conscious.  
  
Emma looked down as Steve groaned again unable to stop the tears that rolled down her cheek. She looked back up at Dobbs the hatred still there. "It's on a CD back at my house." She saw the flash of disbelief cross Dobbs' face and continued hurriedly, "and don't tell me you searched everywhere. Trust me it's well hidden. You would never find it without my help."  
  
"Where?" Dobbs said suspiciously.  
  
"Let him go and I'll show you."  
  
Dobbs laughed. "You must think I was born yesterday. Your `friend' here comes with us until we have verified the information. Then we'll think about letting him go." He looked at the other man, "Steele," Dobbs said, it was the first time he had used his subordinates name, all of the other instructions had been achieved with eye contact and gestures. A sign that the men were used to working together. "Help Mrs Fielding's friend into the car will you."  
  
Steele moved to obey. He bent over Steve preparing to lift him under the shoulders and drag him to the vehicle.  
  
Steve took his opportunity. With a lightning fast move borne of desperation, he knew he would only get one shot at this, he grabbed the arms of Steele as he bent over and brought his legs up over his head. He planted his foot in Steele's stomach and using all of his strength he lifted him off the ground and threw him into Dobbs.  
  
Both men went sprawling as Steele's whole body weight impacted with the older man. The gun was thrown from his hand. Steve jumped to his feet ready to continue the fight as a shocked Emma just knelt and stared at the sudden turn of events.  
  
Steele being the younger of the two was the first to recover scrambling to his feet. Steve moved in to hit him and managed to get a punch to his jaw. Steele staggered back and Steve moved in pressing his advantage on the dazed younger man. He grabbed hold of his shoulders and brought his knee up into Steele's stomach, causing the young man to double over.  
  
Steve was not normally so brutal with his fighting but it was two against one and he was already injured. He needed to subdue Steele as quickly as he could so that he could deal with Dobbs. Steve prepared to bring both his hands down hard on the back of Steele's neck, a move that would leave him dazed and incapacitated.  
  
Steve never got to finish his manoeuvre. Dobbs had recovered from the impact and, seeing Steve's successful attack on his partner, he launched himself at Steve's legs, cutting him down at the knee. The side tackle sent Steve down heavily on to the ground.  
  
Steele recovered from the blow to his abdomen and, equally eager to incapacitate as quickly as possible, he aimed a kick at Steve's head before Steve had chance to recover from the fall to the ground.  
  
Steve only felt the impact of the foot with his cheek for a brief second before his hearing cut out and his vision imploded. The blackness started at the edges moving in rapidly so that the circle of light that he could see got smaller and smaller until there was only black and then he knew nothing more. The last sensation a blinding pain.  
  
Steele drew his foot back for another blow. It was unnecessary, Steve was not going to get up but he wanted revenge for the pain Steve had inflicted on him, to say nothing of his injured pride at being taken twice by the man. Only Dobbs' intervention both times had saved him. A fact that Dobbs would not let him forget in a hurry.  
  
The gunshot that passed behind him within three feet stopped him mid kick. He turned, as did Dobbs, to look at the source of the shot.  
  
Emma stood shakily holding the gun in their direction. Her expression a mixture of fear and hatred. "Leave him alone," she said with as much strength as she could manage.  
  
Steele lowered his foot to the floor. Emma looked very shaky with the gun. Both Steele and Dobbs knew that there was little more dangerous than a nervous person with a gun in their hand. Emma may not be able to aim very well but experience taught them that she was far more likely to pull the trigger than someone who was in complete control. A `lucky' shot could leave you just as dead as a well aimed one.  
  
Dobbs smiled with his best attempt at reassurance. "Now, now Mrs Fielding, you don't want to shoot us. Just put the gun down."  
  
"Don't patronise me Dobbs," she spat back. She allowed the anger to take control. These man had put her through enough. Part of her just wanted to shoot them and have done with it but she couldn't. Whatever she felt they had done to her, she could not shoot them in cold blood. Only if they threatened her or Steve again would she fire. "Help him up and put him in the truck." She said pointing at Steve.  
  
"Now hold on I'm sure..." Dobbs began but did not get to finish as a shot bounced off the ground this time less than a foot to his side.  
  
"Do I have to actually shoot one of you to get you to cooperate?" Emma asked.  
  
Realising that Emma was just scared and angry enough to carry out her threat, the two men moved to pick Steve up. He had started to regain consciousness and they were able to place their arms under his shoulders and haul him to his feet. Not realising entirely what was happening Steve, nevertheless, did his best to cooperate and he was half carried to the truck where Dobbs and Steele placed him in the passenger side.  
  
"Now move away," Emma said being careful to maintain her distance. She did not want to give them the opportunity to rush her.  
  
The two men did their best to separate since she could not then keep both of them covered but Emma was wise to the move. "Either you two stay together or I just shoot you now," she said threateningly. The men reluctantly closed the gap. "Over there by the phone booth." Emma said gesturing in that direction.  
  
Dobbs and Steele moved obediently by it, watching her all the time, looking for the slightest sign of distraction. She moved around the front of the truck to the drivers side but did not take her eyes off them for a moment. She opened the door and wound down the window. Keeping them covered she felt for the key and was relieved to find it in the ignition. She started the truck up and climbed into the seat. Still she kept her eyes and the gun trained on the two men. Only as she put the truck into drive and moved off did she finally look away.  
  
She drove forward only a matter of thirty feet before she stopped next to the car the men had arrived in. They made a frantic dash to try to catch her, but she was too quick. She fired a shot into the front tyre, slammed her foot on the accelerator and screeched off up the wet road leaving Dobbs and Steele cursing in her wake.  
  
Emma did not know where she was going She just did her best to ensure that she put as much distance as possible between them and Dobbs and Steele. She kept looking over at Steve who remained in a semi-conscious state.  
  
Eventually she decided that she had driven far enough, actually she was nearing the point of exhaustion both physical and mental. The events of the last few hours began to take their toll. She was shivering uncontrollably, the cold from the hours in the pouring rain and wind and the fact that she still wore soaked clothing had brought her close to hypothermia. Only her increased physical exertion had kept her going.  
  
Her emotional state was equally poor. Faced with life or death choices, for her and for Steve, she had managed to keep things together long enough to grab the gun and rescue them both but she had been an emotional wreck before that point. Now that the immediate danger had gone, the hysteria returned. She pulled the truck over to the side of the road and leant her head on her arms against the steering wheel. Then she began to cry. The whole of her upper body vibrated as the combination of shivering and sobs took over.  
  
Steve was vaguely aware of his surroundings, aware that for the time being he was out of danger. He relaxed into the seat of the truck and allowed his mind to drift. His thoughts were disjointed and he couldn't quite piece together what had happened. The only sensations that he could really feel were pain and nausea so he waited for the worst of it to subside.  
  
Finally he became aware that the truck was no longer moving. His hearing returned to normal first. He could hear his own heartbeat, strong but slightly too rapid and a soft murmuring sound coming from beside him as though someone were crying. He opened his eyes slowly and blinked to try to focus the blurry outlines around him. He moved to sit up and pain exploded from various parts of his body as bruised and mistreated muscles complained. He gasped and eased himself back, then he tried the same move more slowly, much more slowly. This time he made it to a sitting position.  
  
He turned to look at the source of the noise beside him. As he looked at the quivering delicate form, the memories of what had just happened came flooding back, they were intermingled with strong flashbacks to his past, just fleeting glimpses of that time so long ago when he had last seen the woman beside him, and with each memory came a powerful emotion.  
  
"Emma," he said gently placing a hand on her shoulder. He was shocked by how cold she felt. He could feel her shivering. "Emma?" he said again his concern deepening as she did not respond.  
  
Emma heard his voice strong and yet gentle at the same time. She felt his strength from the hand on her shoulder. It was comforting, somehow it allowed her to cut through the despair. She raised her head from her arm and turned to look at him. "Oh Steve you're all right. I'm so relieved, when those men were...." She could not finish. She began to sob again.  
  
Steve took her into his arms, until her head rested on his shoulder, his hand gently resting on the back of it. "Shh it's going to be all right," he said reassuringly, stroking her hair as though he were comforting a child. It had the desired effect the sobbing slowed and then stopped.  
  
Part 4 - Recovery  
  
As Steve held her he began to think clearly for the first time since the incident began. They could not stay here. It was vital that she get out of her wet clothing and warmed up, for that matter he needed to do the same. He could already feel himself beginning to shiver, but he could not take her back to the beach house. Alison was there for a start and he still couldn't begin to explain to her what he was doing, even if he wanted to, and he wasn't sure that he did. He surprised himself with that last thought but quickly decided that he did not have time to analyse his feelings now and pushed the slight feeling of guilt out of his mind to return to the practicalities.  
  
If he couldn't go home there was only one other place he could go - Jesse's. Jesse was his best friend and would always help if he were in trouble. He looked down at the woman in his arms and remembered the fight for their lives that they had just been through. He thought about Alison tucked up obliviously in his bed. Yes this definitely classed as being in trouble.  
  
He spoke softly. "Emma, come on we need to move, get to somewhere warm and get out of these wet things."  
  
Emma had calmed down considerably, the physical contact with Steve, being held close, had made her feel secure, safe for the first time in a long time. She reluctantly pulled herself away and looked up at him. Her vision was blurry from all the crying and she continued to shiver. "OK, do you have somewhere we can go?"  
  
"Yes, look slide over here. I'll take over the driving."  
  
She studied him closely remembering his semi-conscious state only minutes earlier. "Are you sure you're up to it?"  
  
"Yes I'll be fine," he said wiping the tears from her cheeks and flashing her his best smile. It was a mistake, the injured cheek protested at the attempted movement and he felt a stabbing pain that made him suck air in sharply and move his hand to hold his face.  
  
Emma displayed even more concern. Steve was clearly hurt. She could see the developing bruising and swelling even in the dim light.  
  
Despite the pain Steve began to laugh, how ridiculous, smiling to reassure someone that you were indeed all right only to suffer a great deal of pain for your trouble, hardly reassuring. He looked at Emma's expression and controlled the pain for long enough to say, "No honestly I'm fine just a little sore. I'd better not try smiling again for a while though" and he continued to laugh.  
  
Emma was confused at first. Why was he laughing if it hurt? But then she saw the contradiction and smiled herself.  
  
"Come on," he said when he could control the laughter. "Move over here and let's get going."  
  
Obediently Emma slid over and Steve pulled a blanket out from behind the seat and wrapped it around her. Then he climbed out and moved round to the driver's seat getting another mild soaking for his trouble, not that it made much difference to his already sodden state.  
  
Emma wrapped the blanket around herself and curled up on the seat, relaxing back and letting the exhaustion take over. Steve started up the truck and did his best to get his bearings. Then he headed out towards Jesse's apartment building.  
  
He looked over at Emma and realised that she was falling asleep. He had to stop her. He remembered the icy feel to her skin. If she slept now her body temperature would drop further and from her current state that would not be a good thing.  
  
"Emma?" She did not respond. "Hey Emma," still nothing. He sharpened his tone. "Emma talk to me!"  
  
"What?" She muttered jumping slightly. She opened her eyes forcing herself back awake.  
  
"Sorry, didn't mean to make you jump but I need you to stay awake, talk to me, keep me awake." Steve said quickly.  
  
"What do you want to talk about?" She replied reluctantly sitting up. Her whole body and large parts of her mind were screaming at her to ignore him. She had to fight an almost overwhelming desire just to close her eyes and drift off back to sleep.  
  
"Everything...Anything," he paused for a moment. "So what have you been doing for the last thirty years?"  
  
Emma smiled despite her weariness. "I.... well first I... then... I'm sorry I don't know where to start."  
  
"How about at the beginning. I assume from the name that you married Richard. His surname was Fielding wasn't it?"  
  
"Yes it is... was, I did marry him, we've been married... that is we would have been..." Emma stopped speaking, her reactions froze.  
  
Suddenly the whole of her current surroundings disappeared, the truck, the noise of the storm, the cold all faded away. All she could see was a wooden table with a knife sticking out of it. The knife vibrated as though it had been thrown violently. There was silence apart from an almost imperceptible swish as the knife moved the air around it It rocked backwards and forwards hypnotically as she watched, each movement slightly smaller than the last as the vibrations died and then it was still.  
  
Total stillness, total silence.  
  
Then she felt herself being shaken, her vision cleared she was back in the truck, her arms gripped tightly by a concerned Steve who had pulled over to the side of the road and stared intently into her eyes. "Emma? Emma can you hear me?" He asked his voice edged with panic. He was worried that she was going into some form of delayed shock.  
  
She looked at him recognition returning. "Yes, I'm sorry, bad memory," she shook her head slightly to clear it, briefly closing her eyes. "I'm OK now," she continued, making eye contact again.  
  
Steve held her gaze, studying her expression. She seemed to be back with him. "Don't do that to me again," he said in what he hoped was a light tone. He didn't want her to know just how much she had scared him. He put the truck back into drive and moved off, the sooner he got her to Jesse the happier he would be. Jesse could look her over make sure that there was nothing wrong. "I guess I'd better change the subject then and tell you about me."  
  
"Yes I'd like that," she smiled at him, despite his best efforts to hide it sometimes, she remembered him as being the sensitive type.  
  
For the next twenty five minutes as they drove Steve told Emma all about his life, encouraging her to ask questions to keep her, who was he kidding, to keep both of them alert and awake in an effort to stave off the effects of the cold.  
  
He told her all about his job as a homicide detective, his aborted attempt to get a law degree a few years earlier. The earthquake that had destroyed his apartment and left him living in an apartment below his father's house in Malibu. His father and his work at Community General hospital as well as his role as a consultant for the police department. He spoke fondly of their work together. He also told her about his friends Jesse and Amanda. He was just getting to the reason that he and Jesse had bought a barbecue restaurant together when they arrived at the building that contained Jesse's apartment.  
  
Steve had taken the decision not to use his cell phone to call. He could not possibly explain this to his friend any other way than in person. He helped Emma out of the car and into the building.  
  
The young man entered the office. If he had been nervous and sweating before when he thought there was a vague possibility of wasting his boss's time he was positively terrified knowing that he was delivering bad news. He stood rubbing his hands waiting for his boss to acknowledge his presence.  
  
"Report," the older man said not wasting words.  
  
"The.. the phone number was a good lead they caught up with Mrs Fielding" the young man began. His boss smiled but it didn't bring him any comfort he knew what was coming next. "Unfortunately they... they lost her"  
  
"They what?" The words almost exploded out of the older man's mouth as he pushed his chair back and stood up.  
  
"They lost her sir. They say she had help."  
  
"Help, help?" The older man shouted. "I don't care if she had the whole of the US Cavalry coming to her rescue. They should not have lost her."  
  
"No sir," the young man said. `Don't shoot the messenger, don't shoot the messenger," he repeated silently to himself over and over as he rode out the tirade of expletives and abuse that came out of his superior's mouth to describe the general incompetence of everyone that worked for him. Eventually he had got it out of his system.  
  
"Tell Dobbs that he had better find her and this time bring her in or I will personally..."  
  
The young man closed his ears to the rest of his boss's threat and waited till he had finished before uttering a succinct "Yes sir," and with some relief exiting the office.  
  
He had just reached the door when his superior called him back "Oh and Baker"  
  
"Yes sir?"  
  
"Call Harris let her know what has happened."  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
Jesse was having a rather pleasant dream. He was surfing some of the biggest waves that he had ever seen. The sun was high in the sky, the breeze was gentle and the beach was full of the sort of young women that any red blooded young man would populate a dream beach with. If only that annoying man would stop banging that drum. It wasn't as if he was banging it in any particular rhythm just an incessant thumping.  
  
Jesse tried to will the noise to stop, after all it was his dream, he should be able to control what happened in it, but the noise simply would not go away. It didn't even sound like drumming more like someone banging on.. on a door and suddenly Jesse pulled himself back out of his dream world. He couldn't stop the noise because it was coming from outside of his dream, it was coming from his door. Someone was banging on his door.  
  
He opened his eyes groggily and looked at the clock 3.42am who on earth would be knocking at this time and why not phone or page. It must be something important, some sort of emergency or at least it had better be!  
  
He dragged himself out of bed and pulled on his robe. He moved as quickly as his fuzzy senses would allow over to the entrance to his apartment and pulled open the door. Nothing could have prepared him for the sight that met him.  
  
Steve was standing in front of him, his hand poised mid knock, water dripping off soaked clothing. The left side of his face was bruised and was starting to swell and he was shivering. He used his other hand to lean on the door post to support himself.  
  
"My God Steve, what happened?" Jesse asked his eyes widening.  
  
"Jesse," Steve began, "I have to ask you a very big favour."  
  
"Steve come in," Jesse said, moving to help his friend. "We have to get you out of those wet things then we can talk."  
  
"No!" Steve said sharply. His tone made Jesse stop and look at him again. "Please I need to ask you a favour," he said more softly.  
  
"What?" Jesse asked his curiosity piqued.  
  
"I need you to help not just me but a friend of mine as well. No questions asked for the moment, although I'll try to fill you in when I can." He looked Jesse straight in the eye for the next part of his request. He needed Jesse to see his sincerity. "And I need you to promise me that you will tell no one about it. No one, not even my father, in fact especially not my father." Steve realised that he did not want Mark involved in this, whatever it was. Another feeling that he would have to analyse later when he had more time. He concentrated on Jesse's expression. "Will you do it?"  
  
Jesse had been half asleep but the sight of Steve had quickly woken him, now his request had brought him fully alert. He thought about what Steve was asking. "But Steve..." he began.  
  
Steve interrupted him. "No, no buts, if you can't agree I'll understand and I'll just walk away."  
  
Jesse looked at his friend, he didn't look in any condition to walk anywhere. "OK I'll do it your way."  
  
Steve smiled "Thanks Jess," he said and moved back down the corridor to get Emma.  
  
When Jesse saw Emma he went straight into professional mode and went off to get his medical bag. It did not take him long to confirm that she was indeed in the early stages of hypothermia. Jesse tried to persuade Steve to let him get them both to the ER. Although he was concentrating on the woman Steve had brought with him, he had not failed to notice the other symptoms of the beating Steve had taken, nor the fact that Steve too was way too cold and shivering. Steve flatly refused and once again threatened to go back out into the storm if Jesse did not feel he could help them.  
  
So Jesse did his best with what he had. First he got Emma into a hot bath which he kept refilling with hot water for about forty minutes until Emma's temperature started to come up. Then he got her dressed in some of his old clothing and wrapped in as many blankets as he could find.  
  
Steve kept on insisting that he was all right but he did change into dry clothing and wrap himself up whilst he watched and waited for Emma to recover. Both men had had a laugh when Steve had emerged from the bedroom in Jesse's loosest fitting sweat suit. Steve was much taller and slightly broader than his young friend and he felt like he had been shrink wrapped in the ill fitting garments. Still it was better than being soaked.  
  
True to his word Jesse had not asked any questions although he was burning to. Jesse had never seen Emma before and he was pretty sure that Steve was supposed to be spending the night with Alison back at his place. So why was he soaked to the skin in the middle of the night with a strange woman, and why hadn't he just gone home?  
  
Having settled Emma down she had drifted quickly off to an exhausted sleep. Jesse turned his attention to Steve. "Come on," he said, "I need to examine you, check out that bruising."  
  
Steve started to protest. "I'm fine Jess, honestly, like you say just a bit of bruising."  
  
Jesse's frustration with the situation finally made him lose his temper "Look, you turn up in the middle of the night on my doorstep with a perfect stranger and ask for my help. Now I agreed to not asking any questions and to not telling anyone but I don't remember anywhere agreeing to leave you with possible internal injuries or concussion because you won't let me check you out properly." He drew in a deep breath. "I've agreed not to tell Mark but if I don't and anything happens to you..." He did not have to finish the sentence Steve knew what he was getting at. Jesse and Mark were friends too. Steve was asking a lot of him.  
  
Steve held his hands up in surrender. "OK you win."  
  
"That's better," Jesse smiled at Steve's placating gesture. "Keep your hands there while I help you get that top off."  
  
Jesse examined the bruising on Steve's ribs and abdomen and then moved on to the side of his face. He was relieved that there were no obvious signs of internal bleeding and his blood pressure and pulse were normal.  
  
"So what's the verdict Doc?" Steve asked.  
  
"You seem to be okay, no signs of concussion and everything else is normal. I'd sure like to X-ray that cheek and your ribs, I've got a feeling you may have at least one fractured rib but since I don't actually have X-ray equipment in my apartment. I guess I'll have to make do with a guess. You're going to have to take it easy and if the pain from those ribs gets any worse..."  
  
"I know you want me to go to the hospital straight away."  
  
"I don't need to lecture you about the dangers of a punctured lung if one of those ribs is broken?"  
  
"No"  
  
"I could do anyway just for fun," Jesse teased.  
  
Steve threw a towel at him. "I'd agree but I don't think you'd do it as well as my father. He specialises in those sort of lectures"  
  
"I know, what can I say I learnt from a master" Jesse replied a wide grin on his face.  
  
Steve gently pulled the tight top back on and became more serious as he once again caught sight of Emma. God she was beautiful. "Jess," he said.  
  
"Yes" Jesse caught the change in tone.  
  
"How is she?" he nodded over to Emma's sleeping form.  
  
Jesse looked over at her as well and then back at Steve, "Not too bad, I'll keep checking her for the next hour or so but her stats are almost back to normal. I think the main problem is that she's exhausted. She just needs some rest." He paused. "Look I know that you said you didn't want to answer any questions but..'  
  
"I know Jess, but I really can't give you any answers at the moment because I don't quite know what's going on myself. You're just going to have to bear with me on this one."  
  
Jesse nodded his reluctant agreement, whatever Steve's reasons he would respect them for the time being.  
  
"I need you to do me another favour. Can Emma stay here for the rest of the day? I'll find her somewhere by tonight I promise."  
  
"Sure Steve, like I said she needs her rest. What about you? I take it you're calling in sick to work?"  
  
Steve hadn't really thought about it but he knew he wasn't in any condition to do his job. On the other hand he could do with trying to find out something about the two thugs who had attacked them. "I don't know, I could do with talking to Emma and then checking out the guys who attacked us."  
  
"She's not going to be up to talking for quite a while and you can file a report and let someone else find them. You really need to rest yourself."  
  
"OK, I've got some personal time coming. I'll at least take the day off." Steve looked at his watch - 6am. "Time to get a couple of hours rest then I'll call in." Steve looked round. They had put Emma in the bed. "You take the couch, I'll take the chair."  
  
"With busted ribs," Jesse looked disapprovingly. "I know it's my apartment but I get to take the chair." He threw an extra blanket at Steve.  
  
Jesse was woken up by a noise. He looked up to see Steve getting dressed. His clothes had just about dried out. "Steve?" He asked.  
  
"Hi Jess sorry to wake you. Before I got a chance to call in, Captain Newman gave me a call. He needs me down at the station for something." Steve explained. "I have to go but I'll give my excuses and get back as soon as I can. What time are you due in at the hospital."  
  
"I'm on a late shift so not until one."  
  
"OK, I'll make sure I'm back before then." He headed for the door but stopped before he reached it and turned back. "And Jess"  
  
"Yes"  
  
"Thanks for everything" he said and turned and left.  
  
Jesse tried to settle back into a semi comfortable position on the chair but he had so many questions running through his mind he knew he would not be able to go back to sleep.  
  
Steve pulled into the station car park and headed in to captain Newman's office. He got a few stares from the other officers. The ones who knew him better made the odd jibe about walking into doors, or not letting his girlfriend beat him up.  
  
Captain Newman looked up as his detective entered his office and remarked the fact that Steve looked terrible. His cheek was badly swollen and bruised and there were bags under his eyes indicating that he had not got enough sleep. His clothes looked like he had rolled in the mud in them and then slept in them, which wasn't that far from the truth. The captain tried to ignore his ragged appearance. "Steve," he said, "sorry to drag you in early but I have two gentlemen here who have asked to meet with you."  
  
Steve turned to look at the other two men in the captain's office. His mouth dropped open and although he had heard the expression before, until that moment he had never known the truth of the expression. He felt that he could have genuinely been knocked over with a feather.  
  
The captain continued. "Let me introduce agents Dobbs and Steele from the NSA"  
  
TO BE CONTINUED....... 


	3. 

Part 5 - What's Going On?  
  
Alison rolled over and felt for the warm form that should have been sleeping next to her but there was only cold sheets. She opened her eyes and looked at the empty space beside her. Steve had gone. She noticed the note on the pillow and read it. Poor Steve, getting dragged out in a storm like the one last night. She knew that he was dedicated to his career and admired him for that but sometimes it was so hard on him, getting called out at all hours and in all weathers, to say nothing of the danger.  
  
She sighed as she thought about it. What was she thinking, getting herself involved with a cop, as a lawyer she knew better than most what sort of lifestyle they led. Then she smiled to herself she knew exactly what she was doing. Steve was everything she had ever looked for in a man. Apart from the tall, dark and handsome, which he undoubtedly was, he was also intelligent, caring, sensitive and loyal. In fact the only thing that Alison couldn't understand about him was why he hadn't been snapped up long ago.  
  
She pulled off the sheets and moved to the bathroom to get ready for work. It hadn't been long but she already missed having Steve there to get ready with her. Still at least it would cut down on the time it took.  
  
When she was ready she went upstairs to have breakfast with Mark. She was amazed at how comfortable she felt despite the fact that Steve was not there. Then again she would defy anyone to feel uncomfortable in Mark's presence. He was the most congenial person that she had ever met.  
  
This morning was no exception, he greeted her with a huge smile and a cup of steaming coffee. "Good morning, Steve still getting ready is he?" Mark asked, noting that she had come up alone.  
  
"No, he actually went out hours ago." She accepted the coffee and took a seat." He left a note at about 2am. Sent his love and said he'd see me later."  
  
Mark grimaced, "In that storm? I'm glad I didn't know about it."  
  
"Me too," she agreed. "I probably wouldn't have slept so well"  
  
He moved over to the hob to carry on with the eggs he was cooking. He turned back to look at her. "You know it doesn't matter how old he gets I still can't stop worrying about him. Kinda sad isn't it?"  
  
"No," Alison replied smiling. "I think its great and I know Steve appreciates the way you look out for him."  
  
"You think? Mark asked.  
  
Her smile broadened. "As I said I know he does," she confirmed.  
  
Mark smiled back. Steve's chosen career often placed him in the firing line, and Mark always had that niggling fear, far too often justified, that something bad may happen to him. He tried not to let his fears show when talking to Steve but knew that he frequently failed. It was nice to have independent reassurance that Steve didn't mind. Mark knew that Steve wouldn't tell him even if he did. He returned to the table and placed a bowl of scrambled eggs down to go with the toast bacon and orange juice that were already there. "Are you in court today?" He asked to get the conversation started.  
  
"Yes I've got a hearing at ten and I have some papers to prepare." She paused for a second and looked at her watch. "Doesn't give us much time then"  
  
"For what?" Mark asked.  
  
"To get to know each other better whilst Steve isn't here." She paused to take a sip of coffee. "So what do you want to know about me but were afraid to ask him."  
  
Mark grinned. He liked this woman. He had good instincts about people and he had taken to Alison from the moment they met. Moreover the better he got to know her the more he liked what he found. He hoped that Steve had finally met someone that he could love in the same way that he had loved Steve's mother.  
  
He thought about her question. What would he like to know about her?  
  
Steve could not hide the hostile look that took over his features as he stared at the men who less than seven hours ago had threatened to kill him. "Introductions won't be necessary Captain," he said his voice dripping with sarcasm, "We've already had that pleasure."  
  
"That's right," Dobbs said, stepping forward and attempting a smile. "Lieutenant Sloan nice to see you again." He offered his hand. Steve ignored it. Unperturbed Dobbs continued, "we," he indicated his partner, "were wondering if we might have a quiet word with you. We believe you may be able to help us with something."  
  
Captain Newman watched the exchange with interest, noting the clear hostility bristling from his Lieutenant. Steve was not one who was quick to judge others so, to provoke such a strong emotion, these men must have done something to deserve it. It did not take years of skilled detective work to realise that the bruising evident on Steele's face and that on Steve's had probably been earned in the same fight, judging from the animosity now present, with the men on opposite sides. Whatever had happened between these three, it was clear that they did not want to involve him in it as Dobbs was doing his best to placate Steve. Not expecting a straight answer, he decided that he had to ask anyway. "Does one of you three gentlemen want to tell me just what the hell is going on?"  
  
All three men turned to look at him. "Captain…" Steve began but he was interrupted.  
  
"It's just a little misunderstanding Captain," Dobbs said in a tone which oozed insincerity, "A jurisdiction thing which I'm sure we can clear up if we could just talk for a few minutes alone with the lieutenant here." He turned to look at Steve watching his reactions. "I don't think we need to bother you with it. Although if we have any problems we'll be sure to get back to you."  
  
The Captain considered the request. He looked at Steve. 'Sloan?" He asked, giving him the opportunity to contradict what the agent was saying.  
  
Steve looked at the two agents and then back at his Captain. He did not want to involve his superior in what was going on at least not until he had a better idea himself. "Like he says we just need a few minutes to talk and sort a few things out."  
  
The Captain sighed. He was clearly not going to get information out of any of them. "I don't suppose you want to tell me which case this is connected with?"  
  
Silence.  
  
"I thought not," he continued, admitting defeat for the time being. "OK interview room two is free."  
  
"Thank you Captain." Dobbs said and the three men headed for the door.  
  
Just as they reached it Captain Newman spoke "Oh and Sloan"  
  
Steve turned, "Yes Captain."  
  
"Come and see me when you've finished"  
  
"Yes sir."  
  
Amanda Bentley pulled her car into the curb behind the growing line of official vehicles outside the beachfront house. The drive was only big enough to take four vehicles and two of the spaces were already taken up with cars that she presumed belonged to the victim or his family. A marked and unmarked police car took up the other two spots. Then there was the coroner's wagon, two forensic team vehicles, another patrol car and her own vehicle.  
  
Two uniformed officers were taping off the area, whilst two more were keeping the curious bystanders and press under control. Amanda put on the standard blue jacket that identified her as a pathologist, picked up her bag and headed in to the building. There she was greeted by a similar scene of activity as officers dusted for fingerprints, scoured for forensic evidence and photographed every conceivable aspect of the house. All of this activity because one man had met a violent end.  
  
She spotted a familiar face and walked up to him smiling. "Nathan," She said.  
  
Detective Nathan Turner turned at the sound of her greeting and broke into a similar smile. "Amanda, I didn't know they'd assigned you to this one." He was happy to see her. They had worked together on several cases now but it had been almost a month since their assignments had last brought them together.  
  
"Nor I you. I was beginning to think that the powers that be had decided to keep us apart."  
  
"Well we make such a good team. We were probably making everyone else look bad," Nathan joked.  
  
Amanda laughed. "Let's justify that statement then. What have we got."  
  
Nathan became professional again. He spoke as he led Amanda into a room at the back of the house. "We have a male caucasion, age 52. From what we can tell he's the owner of the house an Englishman named Richard Fielding. He appears to have died from multiple stab wounds but I'll leave you to confirm that one." By this time they had reached the body and it was a fairly gruesome sight. It lay in a large pool of blood that had come from several visible gash marks.  
  
Amanda moved over to do her initial exam. When she had finished she gave the coroner's assistants permission to move the body. "Well you were almost right detective. The knife wounds were responsible for his death but I'd say the actual cause was loss of blood. None of the knife wounds in themselves was fatal. That's why he bled so much. Do we have any idea what the murder weapon was?"  
  
"Follow me," Nathan said and he led Amanda through to the kitchen.  
  
In the centre of the kitchen was a large wooden table and sticking out of the middle of it, as though it had been thrown there, was a large knife. Closer inspection of the blade showed the copper brown stains of dried blood.  
  
Steve led the way to interrogation room two and held the door open for the two NSA agents to enter. He had barely got into the room and allowed the door to close before Dobbs started. "Where is she Sloan?"  
  
Steve had had chance to get over the initial shock that these men were actually supposed to be law enforcement officers of sorts, although he was finding that difficult to reconcile with the behaviour he had seen last night. These men hadn't fought in self defense they had been openly aggresive. Emma was terrified of them and that emotion seemed to be entirely justified. Whatever Emma had done or was involved in she could not deserve the treatment he had seen. Steve was not going to willingly turn her over to these two men. NSA agents or not.  
  
He had had a couple of minutes to prepare what he was going to say. "I don't know." He watched the two agents bristle at his reply but pressed on, knowing that they did not believe him. "Look why don't we sit down and you can tell me what this is all about maybe I can help you." It was his turn to be insincere.  
  
He gave the men a half smile avoiding using the muscles in his damaged cheek and took a chair himself. Steve had felt not a small amount of satisfaction that Steele seemed to be in almost as much pain as he was, his jaw swelling nicely. He wasn't sure if Dobbs was doing all of the talking because he was in charge or because Steele's jaw hurt too much for him to speak.  
  
Dobbs scowled at Steve but none the less took the offered seat. Steele moved back and leaned against the wall. Steve recognised the interrogation tactic. One in close, friendly, personal, to gain your trust whilst the other maintained a more detatched and threatening presence, standing instead of sitting to give a psychological superiority. "You have no idea what you are getting yourself involved in. Just tell us where the woman is and we'll get out of your hair."  
  
"You're right," Steve replied. "I don't know what I'm getting involved in but I do know that woman was terrified of you last night. Why Dobbs? I thought you were on the side of the law?"  
  
"Well law breakers quite often fear those assigned to protect it. Where is she?"  
  
"No," Steve shook his head, "there's more to it than that and I've already told you I don't know where she is."  
  
"You and she left together last night and you'd like me to believe that only a few hours later you have no idea where she went."  
  
"Well it may have escaped your notice," Steve said not hiding the bitterness, "but I wasn't exactly conscious when we left so I'm not sure what happened," he paused and sat back in the chair, "by the time I came round I was alone in my truck. She had long gone." Steve was surprised at how remarkably easy he found it to lie to these men. Normally scrupulously honest, he knew he should feel guilty about what he was doing but his instincts about them and about what would happen to Emma if he let them find her, told him he was doing the right thing.  
  
"I don't believe you." Dobbs said anger replacing his falsely pleasant demeanor  
  
"And I don't care what you believe," Steve countered also dropping all pretense of friendliness. The atmosphere in the room already tense and strained moved to another level. The anger becoming almost tangible as all three men allowed their real emotions to show.  
  
Steele moved away from the wall ready to make his presence felt. Dobbs waved him back they did not need a fight in a police station. "OK Sloan I've tried to do this the nice way but I could have you up on charges for your behavior last night." He counted each of the accusations off on his fingers as he listed them. "Interfering with an agent in the performance of their duty, aiding and abetting a criminal after the fact, aiding and abetting a criminal in an escape… Need I go on?" Dobbs stared at him. His new tactic was clearly an attempt to intimidate.  
  
Steve was not intimidated. "Go ahead," he replied the fire in his eyes backing up the challenge. "as I've already said I was unconscious at the time that Emma 'escaped.' I think you'd have difficulty proving that I aided and abetted anything. As for interfering with agents. At no time do I recall you identifying yourself as such. As far as I'm concerned you could have been a couple of muggers ambushing us on the road. So go ahead tell my Captain." He paused. "I don't think you'll get very far." Steve continued to stare Dobbs down. He leaned forward. "In fact I've got some interesting charges of my own. I don't know about the NSA but here at the LAPD they take a very dim view of anyone holding a gun to the head of one of their officers and threatening to blow their brains out." his voice dropped to a low but deadly tone. "So go ahead report me"  
  
Dobbs realised that intimidation was another tactic that was not going to work. He decided to make one last try at the 'fellow law enforcement officer helping each other out' angle. "Lieuenant Sloan, don't tell me you actually thought we were going to do that? No we were only bluffing. We needed information quickly and it seemed like the best way to get Mrs Fielding to talk." The false smile returned. "We're agents for the government. We wouldn't have actually shot you." He attempted a more friendly tone once again only succeeding in sounding insincere. "We're all on the same side here. We need your help in finding Mrs Fielding and getting the information. If you don't know where she is then help us to find her."  
  
Steve couldn't believe how quickly the man switched from friend to enemy and back again, and he was supposed to buy this routine? He used the good cop, bad cop approach himself on occasion but he usually only played one role at a time. He looked over at Steele his earlier assessment must have been right. If he was having trouble speaking it would explain why Dobbs was doing all the work.  
  
Steve gave his half smile again. "Yes I'll help you," he said, pausing long enough to make Dobbs think that he might be genuine. "On the same day that hell freezes over. Now if you'll excuse me I believe my Captain wanted to see me." He stood up. "I don't think we have anything more to say to each other." He turned and started to leave the room.  
  
Dobbs stood too."You'll regret this Sloan. You're in way over your head," he said to his retreating back. "Way over your head," he repeated as the door closed. 


	4. 

Author's note: to those who are following this: Sorry it took so long,  
  
hope it was worth the wait!  
  
Part 6 More Threads  
  
Steele turned to look at his partner. "Well that was a waste of time," he said trying to move his mouth as little as possible as he spoke.  
  
"No, I don't think so" Dobbs turned to face him. "We now know at least two things more than we knew last night." His partner looked at him questioningly so he continued. " The first is that our lieutenant Sloan knows Mrs. Fielding well. Those two have a history; I could read it in his reactions."  
  
"And the other thing?"  
  
"Well since I don't believe for one moment that he doesn't know where she is and he was ready to call my bluff and let me report him before telling us," he turned back to look at the door through which Steve had just left, "we know that he's prepared to risk his career to protect her." He paused continuing to stare thoughtfully at the door as though he could watch Steve's path on the other side. "If only we'd known last night that he was a police officer then we could have avoided all of this."  
  
Steele disagreed. "I don't think it would have made much difference."  
  
Dobbs looked at him. "Maybe not but having him against us is not going to make this any easier. He started to move towards the door. "Come on let's get out of here before he has chance to finish talking with his Captain."  
  
Steve shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "It's personal sir, nothing to do with any of the cases I'm currently working on." He was doing his best to answer his Captain's questions without lying but he knew his superior would not be satisfied with his answers. When he had entered the Captain's office minutes earlier he had started by requesting some time off, hoping to avoid the difficult questions which he knew would be asked.  
  
"And if I ordered you to tell me what those agents were asking about?" The captain watched Steve studying his reactions carefully.  
  
Steve looked his boss in the eye properly for the first time since entering the office. He paused before answering very quietly. "Then I guess you'd have to suspend me for disobeying a direct order."  
  
The Captain nodded slightly. He had suspected as much which is why he had asked the question instead of issuing the order. He held Steve's gaze for a moment before Steve looked away. "Steve," he said his tone soft, the use of his lieutenant's first name indicative of the fact that he was concerned. "If you're in some kind of trouble…." He let it hang waiting for a response.  
  
"No sir," Steve said shaking his head. "At least not the kind you could help with." He paused before repeating his earlier request. "As I said I just need to take a little personal time to sort a few problems out. I've got the time coming and there are no urgent cases that I'm working on that can't be handled by someone else."  
  
"Personal problems do not normally involve NSA agents turning up in my office requesting private interviews with my officers." Captain Newman pointed out, letting his frustration show a little.  
  
Steve looked slightly embarrassed. "I know sir. I'm sorry, just give me a little time and I will sort it out."  
  
The captain sighed and threw his pen down on the table admitting defeat. "You have five days owed to you. after that I want you back without the personal baggage."  
  
"Thank you sir." Steve got up to leave.  
  
"Oh and Sloan," the Captain added, reverting to the more formal form of address.  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Don't let me live to regret this."  
  
"No sir," and gratefully Steve turned and left the office. He didn't look back as he walked straight out of the building and to his truck.  
  
The black Ford pulled into the curb behind Amanda's car and the driver's door opened. One of the police officers turned to check out the new arrival and was somewhat taken aback by what he saw. Her legs were the first thing he noticed and what legs; long, slender, with curves in all the right places, coated in shear black tights with high heeled sandals to complete the leg extending effect. She placed her knees together, extending one ankle just beyond the other dipping her foot , she then swung her legs out and paused before placing them on the floor. Placing her weight squarely on them she elegantly stood and smoothed the short skirt of her black suit. Her figure matched her legs in shape and beauty. The movement reminded the young officer of an actress or model exiting a car in front of the press. Each move calculated to draw the attention of anyone watching.  
  
The officer found it difficult to believe that this woman had any business at a murder scene so he prepared himself to turn her away as she approached. He almost did a double take as she removed her ID from her pocket and held it up showing her perfectly manicured nails. "Agent Stephanie Harris NSA," she said clipping the badge to the lapel of her jacket.  
  
"Y…Yes ma'am," the officer stuttered moving the crime scene tape to let her through. The woman moved past and he could not help but follow with his eyes. It wasn't just that she was attractive it was the way she moved that drew his attention.  
  
"She's out of your league." The young officer turned to look at his partner who had spoken.  
  
His actions had clearly been watched and he blushed slightly. He blew out a long breath  
  
"Yeah but there ain't no law against looking." He smiled at his partner who grinned back.  
  
"Amen to that."  
  
Agent Harris had a similar effect on all of the male officers inside the house. Each one paused from his respective task to watch her pass. It was a reaction she was used to and she enjoyed the feeling of power it gave her. She ignored all of the men who were busy and spotting Nathan talking to Amanda she walked over to the young detective. Her intuition told her that this was the person she sought. "I'm looking for whoever is in charge." She said confidently as she reached the pair.  
  
"That would be me," Nathan replied turning to look at the new arrival. Like all the other men she had passed he couldn't help but notice her beauty. "Detective Nathan Turner and you would be?"  
  
"Taking over," she replied unclipping her ID and handing it to him.  
  
As she had approached she had caught the look that flashed across his face that told her he was attracted to her. She liked dealing with men. They were so shallow, one look at a pretty face and most of them were easily manipulated.  
  
"This is now an NSA investigation." She continued and turned to look at the various officers working around the room. "If you could stop your men from removing evidence and get them to clear out, our forensics team will be here shortly to take over. You can turn over anything you have found later." She turned back to face Nathan, "and I'd appreciate a report from you as soon as possible."  
  
Amanda had caught the look Nathan had given this woman too, had noticed the sexual tension that had entered the room with her appearance and had felt a twang of emotion as she watched Nathan's reaction to her. She realised with mixed emotions of her own that what she had briefly felt was jealousy. That realisation would need some thought. She did her best to ignore it and refocus her attention on the crime scene and the case.  
  
Nathan, however, was quickly forming opinions of his own. Beautiful though this woman undoubtedly was any attraction he had felt on first impressions was quickly being quelled by the woman's attitude. "Now hold on a minute Agent.." he looked down to read off the ID, "Harris, you can't just walk in here and take over. Not until…."  
  
"Until you've had clearance from your superiors." She finished for him. There was an arrogance in the way that she spoke. She clearly felt that her position gave her superiority over the local law enforcement and made no effort to hide it. "Well my boss is on the phone to your superior even as we speak We've been investigating Mr. Fielding's activities for months now and in all likelihood his death is directly connected to those investigations. So I think we can all save ourselves a great deal of time and trouble if you just hand over to me now and.."  
  
"No," it was Nathan's turn to interrupt. "I don't think so. At least not until I get official notification to hand this crime scene over. This murder took place under LAPD jurisdiction and may have nothing at all to do with your investigation."  
  
This was the first time that Nathan had been in charge when another law enforcement agency had tried to step in and take over, although he had seen it happen before, and he didn't like it. Usually it was the FBI when the case came under federal rather than state jurisdiction. He had seen enough however, to know that he would not be doing his job properly if he just packed everyone up and left on the word of one field agent. No, he would wait to be given orders by his own chain of command, besides he did not like the arrogance of the woman. He could tell even from the brief exchange so far that she used her looks as a weapon.  
  
"When and if I get notification to hand over to you," he continued. "I will do so. Until then this is my crime scene." He matched her steely gaze with his own. "You are welcome to look round but my officers will continue with their work."  
  
Agent Harris stared at him. She was clearly not used to having her authority questioned, nor to having a man who could so easily ignore her charms. "Very well detective have it your way but you are just wasting a lot of time and resources that I'm sure could be better employed elsewhere." She turned and walked off to examine the position the body had been found in.  
  
Amanda who had watched the discussion develop silently waited for the woman to walk away. "Quite a peace of work." She remarked.  
  
"She certainly is. I'm glad I don't have to work with her." Nathan said with feeling.  
  
  
  
Part 7 Breaking Ties  
  
  
  
Steve climbed into his truck and dropped heavily into the driver's seat His injured side and abdomen sent sharp reminders to his brain that he should be resting them not walking around. He leaned his head back against the headrest and shut his eyes, drawing in slow but steady breaths. He was exhausted and he was developing a headache. Even without the injuries he knew he did not feel well. He let out an involuntary shiver. He had been so damn cold last night and still wasn't a hundred per cent sure that he had warmed up despite the warmth of the morning California Sun.  
  
He allowed himself a few minutes to rest before he considered his next move. One thing that he was sure of, was that he was committed to helping Emma whatever he had to do.  
  
He was equally sure, especially after the recent revelations about the identity of Dobbs and Steele, that he could not involve any of his family or friends in this. It was too dangerous and besides Emma was a part of his past not anyone else's. He already regretted taking her back to Jesse's since he had now involved his young friend in a situation which could not only place him in physical danger but also may involve him getting into trouble with the law.  
  
One of his priorities then was to get Emma away from Jesse's apartment as soon as possible. Before that though he had two very difficult calls to make. He owed it to his father and Alison to at least let them know that he wouldn't be around.  
  
He decided to start with Alison. He knew that she was due in court at ten so that didn't give him much time. He pulled out his mobile and dialed.  
  
"District Attorney's office how may I help you?" The well practiced greeting came from the other end.  
  
"I'd like to speak to Miss Porter please if she's not in court yet."  
  
"Thank you putting you through." The voice cut off to be replaced once again by the ringing tone. Knowing that he was about to be put through Steve felt a surge of reaction at the prospect of speaking to Alison. A little flutter of excitement as his stomach muscles tightened. He had been feeling this more and more lately. Reacting like a kid in a sweet shop, not just when he saw her, but at the prospect of seeing her or hearing her voice. Any contact with her in fact. Steve took it as one of the signs that he was falling in love with her.  
  
The events of the last twelve hours had not changed that reaction. However the myriad of emotions he felt on seeing Emma again just left him confused and slightly bewildered.  
  
"Alison Porter here how may I help you?"  
  
"Hi it's…"  
  
"Steve," there was pure joy in Alison's voice as she instantly recognised him. She must have missed him more than she thought or maybe been a little more worried than she would admit, hence the rapid interruption. "Great to hear from you." She glanced at her watch. "I'm due in court soon so this'll have to be quick."  
  
"Yes, I know at ten. I'm er.." Steve stumbled with how to continue.  
  
Hearing her voice and her reaction to him suddenly made this a thousand times harder. He was struggling to deal with his emotions, with how he still felt for Emma. For the first time he considered properly how he did feel; was he still in love with her even after all this time? That was too big a question to answer but the fact that he could even ask himself it whilst on the phone to Alison, with whom he was sure that he was falling in love made him feel tremendously guilty. The fact that he was going to tell Alison a series of half truths so that he could go back to Emma filled him with a sense of betrayal. He was betraying her trust in him, her feelings for him. Even as he did it he wasn't sure he could forgive himself for it.  
  
"I'm sorry about leaving you last night something came up."  
  
"I know, no rest for the wicked. It's OK I know what your job is like there's no need to apologise besides." She smiled and although Steve couldn't see her he could hear it in her voice. "You can make it up to me tonight."  
  
"Actually that's why I called." God this was so hard. "The thing I was called out to last night…. It's…… going to take several days to deal with. I doubt that I'll be able to get away to see you."  
  
"Not at all?" The disappointment was evident in her voice.  
  
Steve felt the guilt deepen as he heard her tone change. "Sorry I doubt that I'm even going to get home much." He tried to add something that would cheer her up. "I promise that I will make it up to you when I've wrapped this thing up." He thought but did not add 'That's if you still want me to when you find out the truth'  
  
"Well if that's how it has to be I guess I'll see you in a few days."  
  
"Yes, I'll try and call you when I can."  
  
"I'll miss you."  
  
"Miss you too"  
  
Steve hit the disconnect and let out a huge sigh. One down one to go.  
  
As the line disconnected Alison stared at the receiver. Was it only this morning that she had told herself that she knew what she was doing going out with a cop?  
  
Inside the station Captain Newman was also staring at his phone. He had spent the last fifteen minutes arguing with a field director from the NSA about jurisdiction on a murder inquiry. Normally he would not have been so adamant about keeping his own people involved but for the request to come on the same morning as two other NSA agents had turned up at the station was just too much to be coincidence. If Steve had managed to get himself mixed up in a murder investigation that he wasn't prepared to admit to, then Newman wanted to make sure he knew all about it. He had therefore been quite adamant about his position. He did not tip his hand by explaining why he wanted to keep his men involved but he did make some valid jurisdictional arguments. Eventually a reluctant compromise had been reached. The investigation for the time being would be a joint one until it could be shown for certain whether it was connected to the NSA's case or not.  
  
The Captain picked up the phone again to dial his detective and let him know the position.  
  
Mark heard the familiar page and went to the nurse's station to pick up. He identified himself and heard the click as the call was put through.  
  
"Hi dad" Steve said trying to sound casual.  
  
"Hi Steve, what's up?" A smile of recognition crossed the old doctor's face as he heard the familiar voice of his son.  
  
"Something's come up which means you're not going to see much of me, if at all, over the next few days" Steve replied.  
  
"I didn't know you had any big cases pending. Something new?" Mark asked.  
  
Steve had known before placing the call that he would not be able to get away with telling his father as little as he had told Alison. Lying to him was not an option so he had resolved to use the same half truths and if pushed to refuse to answer. Again he hated what he had to do but he did not want to place his father in danger. "Yes, it's the reason I was called out last night."  
  
"Do you want to talk about it?"  
  
"No," Steve's reply was too rapid. "I'm sorry I can't really tell you anything about it at the moment. Perhaps when it's all wrapped up." Despite his best efforts to keep his tone light Steve could hear the strain in his own voice, sure enough his father picked up on it too.  
  
"Steve are you all right?" Mark asked the concern showing in his tone.  
  
"Yeah fine," Steve paused deciding what half truth would sound most reasonable, "I just didn't get much sleep last night." That much was true but it wasn't the only reason that his voice sounded strained. "I guess it's catching up on me."  
  
"OK well look after yourself and try and get some rest." Mark said. Steve's reply had done nothing to lessen his concern. "I guess I'll see you when I see you."  
  
"Yes I'll be in touch, bye dad." For the second time Steve let out a huge sigh as he hit the disconnect on his cell phone. He stared at it for a few moments before he dropped it on the seat next to him, put the truck into drive and headed off.  
  
It was a day for staring at phones, both Agent Harris and Detective Turner stared at their respective handsets.  
  
Stephanie Harris swore softly. 'A joint investigation! How could her superiors be so stupid.' She could not believe that she had just been ordered to cooperate with the LAPD on the investigation. She did not need the bungling of the local police on her case. Especially not when she had spent so much personal time and effort on this one.  
  
She looked over at the detective in charge quietly fuming to herself. If only he had listened to her when she had told him to leave, she could have really made some headway. Even once it had been established as a joint investigation, the police forensics team would not have bothered coming back and her team could have taken over. As it was she was going to have to rely on their evidence, her superiors had deemed it 'unnecessary' to bring in the NSA team as well.  
  
Nathan was similarly bewildered and angry he did not, however, resort to swearing. He merely bit his lip and clenched his fists. If he had been told it was his case, continue investigating, he would have been happy. He would have been less pleased if he'd just been ordered to hand over to the NSA but at least then it would reduce his workload but instead he had been presented with the worst of both worlds. Not only did he have to continue the investigation increasing his workload but he had to take part in a joint investigation. Twice as much paperwork with half the progress and if that wasn't enough it also meant that he had to work with that arrogant NSA agent who would, no doubt, spend the entire time that they were forced to be together looking down her nose at him.  
  
He turned to look at her to find that she was already staring at him. The hostility clear in her green eyes. So she had received a similar phonecall to his.  
  
Captain Newman walked out of the station just in time to see Steve's truck pull away out of the car park. He watched it until it was out of sight. One of the uniformed officers had told him that Steve was in his truck outside the building. He had come out hoping to catch him so that he could ask him again about the NSA agents. He did not believe in coincidences so the case that detective Turner was on must somehow tie in to the agents visiting Steve.  
  
He briefly debated sending a patrol car after Steve to get him to come back but decided he couldn't really justify that. He would just have to wait for his opportunity to speak to him later. He turned to reenter the station as a large black ford with opaque windows pulled out of the car park and headed off down the road in the same direction that Steve had gone.  
  
Amanda had left the crime scene to return to community general ready to make a start on the autopsy. In the car on the way there she had debated briefly the feelings that she had experienced towards Nathan. Had she really felt jealous because it was him or was she just jealous of the beauty of the other woman regardless of which male colleagues had been there? No it couldn't be the latter. Amanda was not consciously aware of ever feeling that way towards another woman. She was confident in her own looks and personality and felt totally comfortable with herself. Her foster parents had instilled that sense of self worth in her and so she was fairly sure that was not it. The reaction could only have been because Nathan was there and that opened up a whole different can of worms.  
  
Arriving at the hospital Amanda passed Mark standing at the nurse's station deep in thought.  
  
"Hi Mark." She smiled at him.  
  
Her voice snapped him back from his thoughts and he matched her expression with a wide grin "Oh hi Amanda"  
  
"Something wrong? You looked like you were worrying about something."  
  
"No, everything's fine," his smile broadened. "Just doing my usual concerned parent bit."  
  
"Steve huh?" She said knowingly.  
  
"Yes he was out most of the night working," Mark explained, "and he says he won't be home for several days but he can't tell me what he's working on."  
  
"Sounds mysterious"  
  
"Yup and you know me I just can't help but think about a mystery." By this time Mark had fallen in to step beside Amanda accompanying her in the direction of the path lab. They knew each other well enough to fall in with the other's routines at the drop of a hat. As they walked Mark briefly lost himself in thought again. There was something bothering him about his brief conversation with Steve. His intuition told him that something was wrong. It wasn't in anything Steve had said, nor could Mark put his finger on exactly what it was, apart from the slight strain in his son's voice which could be explained by tiredness as he had said. Still, Mark knew that something was wrong, and it worried him.  
  
Amanda stopped. "You haven't heard a word I've said have you?" She asked accusingly.  
  
Mark also stopped and looked suitably embarrassed. "I'm sorry Amanda no, I'm afraid I let my mind drift off again." He looked at her earnestly. "What were you saying?"  
  
Amanda couldn't get annoyed with him even though to all intents and purposes he'd been ignoring her for the last five minutes. "Oh nothing, I was just telling you about the murder that I've just been out to, multiple stab wounds, very grisly."  
  
"Any suspects?"  
  
"So far only the wife." Amanda replied glad to have Mark's attention back. This looked like it could be an interesting case. "She's missing and hasn't been seen since her husband's untimely demise sometime late yesterday afternoon. I'll get a more exact time of death when I've had chance to examine the body."  
  
"Crime of passion?" Mark asked his curiosity at last piqued.  
  
"Could be. From what I saw in my prelim exam it was a fairly frenzied attack at least a dozen wounds, most fairly shallow. Could have been a woman" They arrived at the path lab. Amanda turned to face him. "If you're interested I'll give you a call when I've finished the autopsy. Let you know what I find." She paused. "Although I doubt you'll be called in to consult on this one."  
  
"Why's that?"  
  
Amanda smiled at the memory. "Well when I left the scene Detective Turner was just beginning a jurisdiction argument with an NSA agent who claimed it was part of an ongoing case."  
  
Mark grimaced "I don't think I want to be in the middle of that one." Then realising whose name Amanda had used added. "Nathan's on this case?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"How is he?" He asked fondly. "It's been a while since we've worked on anything together."  
  
"He's fine. You'll probably get to see him later if he stops by to pick up the report. Speaking of which I'd better get on with it." She began to push the door to her lab open.  
  
"OK page me when you're done and I'll come down." Mark said as he began to move off in the direction of his own office. Looking through an autopsy report would help him take his mind off his probably unfounded worries about Steve and it would be great to see Nathan again. The possibility of helping him with a case made it an even better prospect.  
  
Steve was deep in thought as he drove, all the same he kept a watchful eye on his rearview mirror. He needed to be sure that he did not have a tail. He spent an extra twenty minutes on the ten minute drive back to Jesse's using all of the techniques that he knew just to make sure that there was no possibility of anyone following him.  
  
His thoughts were first occupied with the phone calls that he had just made. He and his father knew each other so well that he knew his dad had noticed the tension in his voice and he regretted not being able to open up with him. His dad was always there when he needed him and never pushed him into talking about his feelings. Steve appreciated that. He often found it difficult to talk but he had always been given space to open up in his own time.  
  
He had never told his parents about Emma. In fact he had never told anyone. At the time it had been too painful. As time went on he found that he did not want to share the memories, as though doing so would in some way give a small piece of them away, and he wanted to hang on to every part of them.  
  
Explaining now what he was doing to his father would involve sharing one of the few areas of his life that he had kept totally from him and Steve realised that even if he had wanted to he would have found it difficult to do.  
  
Since the night before he had not been able to keep track of his own emotional state for more than a few minutes at a time. Seeing Emma again would have been a big enough shock on it's own, especially since time seemed to have done little to dull his emotional response to her, but the rapid series of events that had unfolded since, left him with a long list of responses which his mind seemed to want to run through in fairly rapid succession.  
  
The prominent emotions when he finally pulled up at the apartment building were anger and frustration. If he was going to sever his ties to family and friends and risk his own career into the bargain then he needed some explanation of what was going on. Whatever his feelings for Emma had been, were?, he needed some answers.  
  
Steve parked the truck on the road. His instincts told him that parking in the underground car park was unwise. It would be too easy to get caught off guard in there.  
  
Jesse had been unable to go back to sleep once Steve had left for the station. Not known for his lack of curiosity, Jesse had been unable to control the questions that kept intruding on his thoughts. His inability to have them answered made him full of nervous energy so he had set about cleaning the apartment up. All except of course for his room where Emma was still asleep. He had checked on her a couple of times, doing his best not to disturb her too much but needing to check that her body temperature and other vital signs were back to normal. She was so exhausted that she had gone back to sleep quickly both times after he had checked.  
  
He was folding some laundry when he heard Steve's knock. Opening the door to his friend he greeted him. "Hi Steve," he looked him over, "have I told you recently that you look terrible?"  
  
"With a bedside manner like that your patients must love you," Steve responded sardonically as he moved in to the apartment and dropped on to the couch. Letting out a sigh as his muscles once again protested.  
  
Jesse returned from the kitchen area with two cups of coffee and handed one to Steve as he joined him. "How are you feeling?" He asked trying to sound like a friend not a doctor. Whatever was bothering Steve it had him tightly wound up, and his visit to the station seemed to have made things worse if the deep worry lines that had appeared on his face were anything to go by.  
  
"Sore as Hell," Steve admitted "but I've had worse."  
  
"You should get some more rest," Jesse could not fight his professional instincts. "I'll get you the blankets out again and.." He started to rise.  
  
"No," Steve said sharply stopping Jesse in his tracks. His tone softened as he went on to explain. "Thanks but I really need to get myself and Emma out of here."  
  
Jesse sat down again waiting for the explanation to continue. He did not have to ask anything, his expressive eyes did the questioning for him.  
  
Steve sighed. He had placed Jesse in danger. He owed him some sort of explanation. "You've probably already gathered that the woman I'm with, she's called Emma Fielding, is in a lot of trouble and I'm trying to help her." Steve looked at the door to Jesse's bedroom and then turned his gaze back to his friend. "I'm not sure how bad it is yet but I don't want to put you in any further danger by being here."  
  
"I don't mind helping out," Jesse said  
  
"I know Jess," Steve used his now perfected half smile. "but the people who are after her are not messing around."  
  
Jesse gave a slight nod to indicate Steve's cheek. "So I've noticed"  
  
"As soon as Emma's up and around we'll be leaving."  
  
"I guess that will be soon then." A female voice interjected.  
  
Both men turned to see Emma standing in the door to Jesse's bedroom clothed in her now dry dress. Although she still looked a little pale and tired, she had made the effort to comb her hair and brush the worst of the mud off her shoes.  
  
Steve stood and stared at her. Any anger that he had felt at being dragged into whatever Emma was involved in melted from him. He was held transfixed once again as he tried to interpret the feelings he was experiencing.  
  
Emma stared back. Jesse tried his best with a greeting but it quickly became clear that he was talking to himself as neither Emma nor Steve had eyes for anyone else. Suddenly feeling uncomfortable, Jesse sensed the pent up emotion and decided that it would be best to leave them. He was fairly confident that nothing would be said whilst he was there. "I'm… er just going to… er…" He said hesitantly edging towards the door. "I'll just go and.. check my mail. I'll… leave you two alone to talk." There was no response so Jesse headed off for the lobby.  
  
He had been gone for a couple of minutes before either of them spoke.  
  
"Steve… I.." Emma began, "I'm so sorry that I've got you involved in this." Her tone was one of regret. "I should never have called you."  
  
Steve took a step toward her and then stopped. "Don't apologise. I gave you my word that if you ever needed help then I would be there for you." He took a second step then added more quietly. "and I meant it."  
  
"But you don't know what it is that you are involving yourself in."  
  
He moved closer still. They were so close their bodies almost touching she could feel the heat from his torso, his warm breath. "I do have some questions I need answering," he admitted, gazing into her dark brown eyes he felt intoxicated. His emotions were firmly in control. All the important questions he wanted to ask her, needed to asked her, were pushed to the edge of his consciousness. He was suddenly consumed with the need to hold her in his arms, to kiss her. He gave in to the desire.  
  
She responded wrapping her arms around him and pressing her body into his.  
  
Finally the niggling questions penetrated through the emotion and Steve pulled himself back slightly. He took a deep breath to try to clear his head. Could the emotions really still be this strong after all of this time? He wasn't sure but he knew that everything about her felt comfortable, familiar; her scent, her touch, her kiss. A missing piece of him seemed to be back.  
  
The voice of reason broke the spell for him. He had to ask her about what was going on. Find out why she was wanted by the NSA and what information she had that made them behave like they had done to get it. He fervently hoped that he liked the answers.  
  
He led her over to the couch. "OK, you're right I do need to know what's going on if I'm going to help." He squeezed her hand reassuringly. "Suppose you start at the beginning and tell me everything up to us meeting in a storm last night."  
  
Emma thought about it for a moment then sighed this was going to be a fairly long story. She settled back in the chair. "Well I…"  
  
At that point a breathless Jesse ran in through the door. "Steve," he managed to get out between pants. "there are two men downstairs going door to door asking questions about you and Emma. They've got a picture of her and they are asking if anyone has seen her."  
  
Instantly alert both of them stood. "Have they got anywhere?" Steve asked  
  
"No but since they're using your name it's only a matter of time before someone points them in this direction." Several people in the building knew he and Steve were friends, some others knew they were business partners.  
  
"We have to get out of here then before that happens." He fixed his gaze on Jesse. "You'd better come too for the time being. It's better if you're not here."  
  
"I could stay here and delay them," Jesse offered. "Tell them that I haven't seen you."  
  
"No, too dangerous. We'll drop you at the hospital."  
  
"OK I'll grab my stuff." Hurriedly Jesse scooped up his jacket and bag and headed for the doors to the patio. "We'll go out the back way. Where did you leave the truck?"  
  
"On the road."  
  
The three had just left and closed the door when Dobbs knocked. He and Steele stood and waited for a reply, not realising that the young fair haired man who had passed them on the corridor was the owner of the apartment they now stood outside and had warned their quarry of their approach.  
  
Emma made her way across the communal gardens towards the steps that Jesse had indicated closely followed by Steve. Jesse brought up the rear. They all heard the report from the rifle a split second after they saw the stone and dust spray up as the bullet impacted the ground less than a foot away.  
  
Everything seemed to go into slow motion as adrenaline caused senses to clear. Steve looked round for the location of the shooter and the nearest cover that would protect them. "The wall, run!" He yelled. The gunmen were on the roof of a building opposite. The nearest cover was the wall by the side of the steps down on to the street that they had been heading for.  
  
All three broke into a run. Steve caught up with Emma with his longer stride and scooped her round the waist adding his momentum to hers.  
  
Jesse felt the white hot pain as the bullet bit into his arm and then he was spinning round. Losing his balance he dropped down on to the concrete hitting hard as he failed to roll on impact. He lay dazed not quite comprehending what had happened.  
  
Dobbs and Steele heard the shots fired and wasted no time in breaking the door down to Jesse's apartment. They ran straight through and out. Taking the situation in at a single glance they began to return fire.  
  
Jesse was fortunate he had been a sitting duck, completely exposed to further fire. Now the gunmen concentrated on the new threat. Even so he was now in the middle of a deadly crossfire. Being hit by a stray bullet was still a real possibility.  
  
Steve and Emma made it to the safety of the wall throwing themselves behind it. It was at this point that Steve realised that Jesse was no longer behind him. He turned to look back and was horrified to see his friend lying on the concrete blood pouring from a wound in his arm. "Jesse!" He shouted and without a thought for his own safety he ran back out of cover into the deadly gun battle that continued between the two agents and their unseen assailants.  
  
Jesse tried to get back onto his feet realising that he was in further danger if he stayed where he was but he was losing blood quickly and it was making him feel light headed. Just when he thought he might fall down again he felt strong hands grip him one arm supported him around the waist whilst the other pulled his good arm around a strong shoulder and then he was moving again towards the wall, towards safety.  
  
They were only a few feet from cover when the bullet struck Steve. This hit higher than the one that had struck Jesse. It hit him in right shoulder from behind. Jesse felt Steve jerk forward with the impact and even his fuzzy senses recognised it for what it was. He half expected to fall again but their joint momentum carried them forward and on to the safety of the cover.  
  
Steve felt the all too familiar pain as the bullet hit but a mixture of excessive adrenaline and determination allowed him to ignore it and carry on. When he reached cover he did not stop this time, knowing that if he did he may not have the ability to start again.  
  
Emma was close to hysterics. The two men who were helping her had both been hurt, the gunfire was almost deafening and she felt certain that the next bullet would be for her. She was dragged back to her senses by Steve's shouted instructions and without quite knowing what she was doing she was running for Steve's truck. She climbed in and started the engine.  
  
Steve helped an increasingly unresponsive Jesse into the passenger side and climbed in himself. "Drive," he yelled at Emma who obeyed pulling out onto the road. "We have to get him to the hospital now!"  
  
Steve concentrated on helping Jesse. Blood from the wound had soaked his shirt and jeans so that the left leg was completely red and it continued to flow out. There was so much of it, too much of it. Too much blood. 


	5. 

Part 8 Getting Help.  
  
Steve concentrated first on attempting to stop the flow of blood. He retrieved a cloth from the glove compartment and wrapped it as tightly as he could around Jesse's arm. Jesse's breathing was already becoming shallow and rapid as his body tried desperately to compensate for the blood loss. His eyes were defocused and Steve could see that he was close to losing consciousness. "Come on Jesse stay with me," he said trying to keep the panic out of his voice. "I need you to talk to me."  
  
Jesse tried his best to remain focused but the world was shifting alarmingly. He couldn't seem to take the deep calming breaths that he knew would be better for him. His control of his breathing, his thoughts, his vision was diminishing rapidly. He heard Steve speaking to him but it was like he was talking from the end of a long tunnel. All he could feel was the pain, throbbing in waves up from his arm and through his shoulder, as though his whole arm were on fire. He closed his eyes.  
  
"Jess," Steve said his concern growing further. He knew enough to know that the longer that he could keep his friend conscious the better his chances were. "Jess," he repeated urgently. "Come on I need your help."  
  
Jesse fought his way back from the blackness that threatened to engulf him. He opened his eyes and looked at Steve. The blurry image smiled back at him.  
  
"That's it pal stay with me." Steve's smile was one of partial relief. He took Jesse's uninjured arm and placed it on the cloth covering the wound. "Jess I need you to press here," he said firmly. "Do you understand?" He studied his friends face waiting for a response.  
  
Jesse nodded slightly and did his best to put pressure on the wound. Steve waited until he could feel Jesse pressing on the makeshift bandage before he let go.  
  
Jesse had had time to assess the reason for his own rapid deterioration. He was sufficiently well trained in working in crisis situations for his mind to have run a diagnosis even though he was the patient in this case. He tried to pass his assessment on to Steve but catching his breath was difficult, making it hard to speak. Each word came out quietly with frequent pauses whilst he drew in more air. "Must have……nicked…..artery….blood loss…too…heavy." He swallowed hard. "Need…. tourniquet."  
  
Steve had already come to the same conclusion and had begun to remove his belt. He worked as quickly as he could, placing the belt round Jesse's upper arm above the bleeding he pulled it as tightly as he could. Jesse gasped in pain as the belt was drawn in but he knew it was needed.  
  
Amanda sighed and switched off the recorder. Her findings were not what she expected and she wanted to talk them over with someone before completing her report. She was experienced enough to know that her conclusions were likely to be correct. Even so a second opinion would not hurt and, if she was right, it ruled out the 'Crime of Passion theory.' If she was correct then this was a cold blooded, premeditated murder.  
  
She paged Mark and finished covering the body. Whilst she waited for him she began arranging her paperwork.  
  
Mark entered and smiled at her. "I know that you work quickly," he said, "but even you can't have finished an autopsy report in that time."  
  
"No, I have something that I want you to look at." She said moving back to the body. "Now that I've had a chance to examine them," she explained, "I don't think the wounds look like they are consistent with a frenzied attack and I'd like to know what you think."  
  
Mark spent the next few minutes examining each of the sixteen knife wounds whilst Amanda waited. When he had finished he looked at her, his eyes betrayed the rapid thought processes going on behind them as he voiced his opinion. "Well you're the expert but I'd say that these wounds were inflicted over a period of a couple of hours and that they were designed to inflict pain but not to kill or at least not quickly."  
  
"That's the conclusion I'd draw too," Amanda replied "They did indirectly cause his death from loss of blood, but this man was not killed in a single violent attack. Someone killed him slowly and watched him die." She was pleased that Mark's assessment was the same as hers, not that she doubted her own skills. It was just that sometimes, even with all her experience, she found it difficult to believe what one human being could do to another. Especially since the chief suspect in all of this was the man's wife.  
  
Mark looked at her knowing what she was thinking and the reason she had asked him to come and confirm her suspicions. "It's unbelievable the depths to which people will sink isn't it?"  
  
"Yes," she replied quietly. Replacing the cloth covering the victim, she became professional once more. "Thanks for that I'll get on and finish the report." She looked at Mark. "I'll page you again when I'm done."  
  
Mark left to continue his rounds further intrigued by the case. He hoped that Nathan did stay on it as it definitely looked like it could be an interesting one.  
  
The ten minute journey to the hospital was one of the longest trips Steve could remember. He glanced up occasionally to monitor their progress and give directions, and watched as the streets appeared to move by in slow motion despite the fact that he knew they were driving quickly.  
  
He watched Jesse's physical condition deteriorate unable to do any more about it than keep the tourniquet tight and the cover on the wound pressed firmly.  
  
Jesse's fight for consciousness continued as Steve did his best to keep up a monologue. Jesse struggled to focus on his friend's voice. He could hear him saying that it was important that he stay awake and he wasn't sure why but he knew that for some reason this was true. He had to fight the almost overwhelming desire to just sleep. He needed to listen to his friend. His eyelids which had begun to close flickered open again. He heard Steve ask him once again to 'stay with him.' "OK, I'm here," he managed to whisper in reply.  
  
Steve was relieved that Jesse could still respond but Jesse's other physical symptoms were continuing to worsen. His breathing became increasingly rapid and shallow. His skin colour which had been pale by the time they had got him to the truck took on an almost translucent quality and he was covered by a thin sheen of sweat.  
  
Emma was concentrating on the road and getting them all to the hospital in one piece. Not for the first time in the past few days she was functioning on a sort of autopilot. She did not think about what she was doing, she merely reacted to the circumstances around her. She had strong survival instincts which seemed to take over when the logical part of her brain shut down because the trauma of the situation was overwhelming.  
  
Steve too was relying on his training and his instincts to keep him going. The fear that he had experienced on seeing Jesse lying on the ground had simultaneously tied his gut in knots, sent his mind into overdrive and released a powerful boost of adrenaline into his system that had allowed him to keep going even when he had been shot himself. It was that same gut wrenching fear that kept him going now and allowed him to ignore the pain from his own injury to concentrate on helping his friend.  
  
Steve had enough experience from hanging around with his father and friends and from more than twenty years on the police force to know that Jesse's bullet wound and subsequent blood loss was life threatening. As he watched his friend slip further away from him, it was as if the rest of the world had disappeared. In this new reality there was just himself and Jesse and the fight to keep his friend alive until they reached the hospital. Nothing else mattered, nothing else was real.  
  
Finally losing his battle to stay awake Jesse's eyes closed completely and his head fell back as he dropped into unconsciousness.  
  
"Come on Jess hang in there we're nearly there," Steve said "You're not going to die on me. You hear." He paused for emphasis. "I won't let you die."  
  
Steve wished he had true confidence in the words that he was speaking. He needed to believe that what he was saying was true but a part of him was desperately afraid that it wasn't.  
  
Nathan finished speaking to two of the forensics team who had completed their preliminary sweep and were filling him in on what they had found so far. He realised that he had not seen agent Harris for some time. He didn't think she had left. He was not that lucky! He decided to find her to check up on what she was doing. After all they were supposed to be working together.  
  
He finally found her, in a room that was obviously some sort of office, at the computer. Her fingers were tapping expertly at the keys. She clearly knew what she was doing. Nathan watched for a moment fascinated how anyone could type with the tips of their nails. Hers were too long to do it any other way. Then he moved up behind her to see what she was doing. He was no expert but like a lot of young detectives these days he had been on several courses to improve his computer skills. Crime was increasingly moving into cyber space and if that was where the crime was then the police had to follow. The code moved across the screen quickly, too quickly for him to make out what she was doing.  
  
"So have you found anything?" He asked. He was satisfied to see that Agent Harris jumped slightly. So she hadn't heard him come up behind her.  
  
"No," she replied quickly covering the slight shock. She realised that she had been far too engrossed in her task. "I was just checking through his computer files but there doesn't seem to be anything of interest. Of course if he was careful then he would have kept any incriminating files elsewhere." She turned to look at him. "I thought it might be worth having a look any way."  
  
"Would you care to enlighten me on what you were investigating."  
  
She smiled a deadly smile. "That information is….. confidential." She turned back to the computer and shut it down. Then she stood and held his gaze. "So I assume you've come to tall me what you have found out?" There was that arrogance again  
  
"Look we've been asked to work together on this so I'm going to do my best to cooperate but let's get something straight." His eyes narrowed. "As far as I'm concerned we are working together as equals. You want to know something then you ask nicely. You find something out then you share it with me." He paused and lowered his tone. "because otherwise I will take cooperation to a whole new level of incompetence. Files and reports can be accidentally mislaid for days you know."  
  
Stephanie Harris studied him. Her expression softened and she switched from arrogant to flirtatious in the blink of an eye. "Why detective Turner, surely you don't think that I won't cooperate with you?" She did not wait for a reply but pressed on. "I have my orders just like you and I will do my best to follow them." She adjusted her stance. If Nathan didn't know better he would have said she had done it to make herself look more attractive. "So could you tell me what you have found so far." She paused just long enough to over emphasise the politeness as she added, "please."  
  
Sure that she was playing him but unable to counter, he had no choice but to fill her in on the findings so far. "Most of the prints in the house belong to Mr. Fielding or his wife. We are running a check on hers now. We have found prints on the knife and one bloody fingerprint on a door handle. Initial indications are that he was killed late yesterday afternoon. The wife hasn't been seen since then so the chances are that either she's a victim too or at the very least she's a material witness. We have an APB out on her. Aside from that I'm waiting on reports. I, of course have some background information on the victim but I suspect that you know more about him than I do."  
  
"Probably," She replied but still did not offer any further information. "Any suspects other than the wife?"  
  
"Not at the moment although we still need to check into his business dealings." He made a point of holding eye contact with her whilst he asked, "unless you can give me any leads from your investigation?"  
  
"Sorry, as I said that is, at the moment, confidential."  
  
'So much for cooperation' Nathan thought.  
  
At last the truck pulled up outside the hospital. Steve said a silent prayer of thanks at least Jesse had made it this far. He scrambled backwards out of the truck and pulled Jesse into a fireman's lift over his good shoulder. As he stepped away from the truck he staggered slightly and was relieved to find Emma at his side helping to keep him steady. He pushed his way through the doors to the ER, shouting for assistance as he did so.  
  
The ER staff instantly went into a well practiced routine to help the patient despite the fact that they had had no warning of his arrival. In seconds several pairs of hands were helping Steve lower his friend onto a gurney.  
  
"He's been shot upper left arm," Steve said, "I think the bullet may have caught an artery."  
  
Steve's shouted assessment brought two doctors running to the patient. A couple of the nurses gasped as they realised that it was a friend and colleague lying on the gurney in front of them.  
  
"Oh God, Dr. Travis…. Jesse?" one of them whispered under their breath.  
  
Steve heard this through the cacophony of noise and activity and for a split second he made eye contact with the young nurse who had dated his friend a couple of times. In that instant a look of concern and understanding passed between them and then it was gone, as the team of doctor's and nurses continued their practiced response. All remaining consummately professional knowing that their colleague's life depended on it.  
  
As they wheeled him into the trauma room they were already checking his pulse and blood pressure. The doctor began reeling off a list of instructions to his team who moved around him in a flurry of activity and then the doors closed leaving Emma and Steve standing in calm and quiet by the entrance.  
  
His purpose fulfilled Steve's body now began to protest it's treatment and he did not now have a reason to fight it. He staggered back and leaned heavily against the wall, briefly closing his eyes as a wave of dizziness washed over him.  
  
Emma was instantly by his side. She watched concerned but did not say anything. She expected at any moment that he would turn on her and blame her for what was happening to his friend, for what had happened to him and she knew that when he did her tenuous hold on her sanity would be lost. At the moment the only thing keeping her going at any level was her concern for the man who now stood in front of her.  
  
One of the remaining ER nurses came over to check on Steve. Like a lot of the hospital staff she recognised him. Between his work and visiting his father and his friends Steve spent a lot of time at the hospital, not to mention the far too frequent visits to tend his own injuries. "Steve," she asked gently knowing that he would be worried about his friend. The word had spread quickly through the ER about the identity of the latest patient. "Are you OK?" She asked. "Have you been injured?"  
  
Steve looked up taking in a deep breath and managing a half smile. "I'm fine," he lied, "I'm just worried about Jesse"  
  
As he looked up she saw the bruising to his face. "Are you sure, I could get a Doctor to check you over?"  
  
"No honestly. I'll be fine." Steve lied again at that moment he saw his father exit from the lift. He groaned inwardly. Here was someone who was going to be harder to convince.  
  
The young nurse nodded reluctantly and moved away as Mark approached. Mark had been paged by one of the staff as soon as Jesse had been recognised. He headed at a half run to where his son stood. He was shocked by what he saw. Steve's battered face and disheveled blood covered clothing, the way he leant against the wall for support and his pale, drawn features made Mark's heart skip a beat. Deeply concerned he began speaking before he reached his son, the emotion clear in his voice. "Steve," he said to get his attention. "Steve?" He repeated questioningly. "My God what happened to you?"  
  
"It's not me Dad," Steve replied trying to divert his father's attention. "It's Jesse." He paused trying to think of some way of passing on the information gently. "He's been shot."  
  
"How bad?" Mark asked  
  
"Upper left arm, it's a real mess." Steve replied "He lost a lot of blood. He was unconscious by the time we got him here."  
  
For the first time Mark noticed the woman who stood by Steve. She looked to be about his son's age and had dark brown hair and brown eyes. Her expression was one of fear and concern.  
  
Steve noticed his father looking at her. "This is.." There was a slight hesitation as Steve decided what to tell his father "Emma, she's a friend of mine." Then to her. "Emma this is my father."  
  
Both of them nodded slightly to each other in acknowledgment of the introduction but neither of them spoke, their minds on things other than social niceties.  
  
"Dad," Steve tried to refocus his father's attention away from his companion before he started asking questions. "Can you check on Jesse? Find out how he is?"  
  
Mark looked back at his son. He knew that Jesse was in good hands, before he went to check on him he wanted to make sure that Steve was OK. He looked down again at Steve's blood soaked shirt and his pale battered appearance. "Are you sure that you're all right. Maybe you should let me check you over and you can explain to me what happened," he said. "They'll come out and tell us as soon as they have any news on Jesse."  
  
"No, I'll be fine," he said firmly. The subtle change of tense from when he had lied to the nurse allowed him to justify the half truth that he was telling his father. He would probably be fine in the future although it was not a word he could apply to himself at that moment in time. "Please, Jess was really bad when we got here I need to know that he's not…" he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence the genuine emotion was there in his eyes as he gazed into his father's  
  
"All right," Mark agreed. He still felt that Steve was not telling him everything but he did not appear to be in any immediate danger. Seeing his son's reaction had also brought home to him the potential seriousness of Jesse's condition. Concern for his young protégé took over. "I'll go and check on him. I'll be back as soon as I know anything."  
  
Nathan stared at Agent Harris "Look I don't see how this can be called cooperation if only one of us is sharing information."  
  
"I didn't say that I wouldn't share information detective," she countered. "Anything I find from now on I will pass on to you. I'm just not authorised to tell you why Mr. Fielding was under NSA investigation."  
  
"Well if it could have anything to do with his murder I suggest you get authorisation because otherwise we're both going to be banging our heads against a brick wall." Nathan said trying hard to control his temper.  
  
At that point one of the forensics team came over holding a brown envelope and a photograph in a frame. The photograph was of Richard Fielding and a woman of about the same age with dark brown hair. "We found this in the bedroom," he said indicating the brown envelope. "As far as we can tell the woman in the framed photo is Mr. Fielding's wife."  
  
He handed over the envelope without further explanation. The implication was obvious the moment Nathan took out the photographs. They showed Richard Fielding greeting a very slender attractive blonde woman outside a motel room. There were shots showing them in an embrace before they disappeared into the room together. Nathan studied the photographs carefully. The woman was wearing sunglasses and there were no really good shots of her. It would be difficult to identify her. The only thing they could be certain of was that it wasn't Mrs. Fielding.  
  
"Where did you find this?" Nathan asked.  
  
"In one of Mrs. Fielding's drawers in the bedroom"  
  
Nathan passed the photographs to Agent Harris. "That certainly gives the wife motive," he said  
  
Mark entered the Trauma room to be greeted by a familiar sight as the team of doctors and nurses fought to save a life, only this time the life they were fighting to save was one that meant a lot to him.  
  
He had only known Jesse a few years but in that time he had begun to regard Jesse as a second son. He and Steve often behaved more like brothers than just friends. The young man had so endeared himself to the older doctor that he had genuinely become one of the family. Seeing him lying pale and in pain in the midst of the trauma room activity almost broke Mark's heart. Caught up by emotion, it took him a moment or two to focus and interpret what was happening. Then his professional training kicked in.  
  
Jesse was on oxygen and had three IV lines going in to try to bring his blood pressure back up. Dr. Taylor and one of the ER interns were working on the injured arm trying to stop the flow of blood and get Jesse stable enough to go to surgery.  
  
Mark stood and watched. The team had everything under control and were doing all that could be done. So he just stood by in case he was needed.  
  
After about five minutes. Dr. Taylor was happy that Jesse was stable enough to move. "OK let's get him up to the OR stat.," he said sighing with relief that Jesse had made it this far. He looked up and saw Mark for the first time. He allowed the rest of the team to begin the transfer and moved over to talk to his colleague.  
  
"How is he?" Mark asked  
  
Dr. Taylor did not bother with superfluous detail. "Just about stable, The bullet went straight through but caused a lot of damage on the way. Steve only just got him here in time and if he hadn't used a tourniquet, he wouldn't have made it. So far he's been lucky."  
  
Mark nodded. "Thanks Bill, you'd better get back to him."  
  
The other doctor smiled. "Don't worry we'll do our best for him," he said, turning to hurry after Jesse.  
  
Mark stood and watched them go. Part of him wanted to go and help with the operation but he knew the team was skilled and didn't need his help and his reaction as he had entered the trauma room had convinced him that he was too emotionally involved to give his best and at that moment Jesse needed the best.  
  
As soon as his father was out of sight Steve turned to Emma. "Come on we've got to get out of here."  
  
She looked at him slightly bewildered. She had heard him tell both the nurse and his father that he was all right which she knew was untrue. She had watched as he was hit by the bullet and although the wound was not as serious as his friend's she knew that it needed treatment, but it had not occurred to her until now that the reason he had lied was because he intended to leave the hospital without getting that treatment. "But Steve…"she began  
  
Her voice was too loud it would attract attention. Steve put his finger to his lips. "Be quiet. Do you want everyone to hear us."  
  
She looked round and dropped to a much quieter tone but did not drop her protest. "But Steve, you've been shot. You need to get it looked at."  
  
Steve exhaled heavily. He did not really have time for explanations his father could return at any moment and he would not then have the opportunity to leave. "Look those men followed me to Jesse's apartment. What's to stop them following us here." He held her gaze. He did not want to frighten her any more than she was already but he had to get his point home. "They don't seem to care who they hit. They just opened fire in a public area. Can you imagine what would happen if they arrived here and started shooting in the hospital?"  
  
Emma's eyes widened as she considered the consequences.  
  
Steve wasn't sure if he had pressed the urgency far enough. "The last thing either of us wants is a blood bath in the ER." He searched her expression for confirmation that she understood "So we have to get out of here before any one comes looking for us."  
  
"Then I'll go, you stay." Emma offered.  
  
Steve shook his head. "They know that we're together. The only way they could have found us at Jesse's was if they followed me. If I stay there's just as much potential danger for everyone here. Both of us have to disappear." He placed his hand on her arm. "Come on we need to go."  
  
She nodded.  
  
At that moment the doors to the ER swung open as a stretcher carrying an accident victim was rushed in.  
  
The resultant distraction caused by the new arrival gave Steve the cover he needed to slip away unnoticed. He edged back out of the door, Emma at his side and without looking back left the hospital. 


	6. 

Part 9 Disappearing  
  
  
  
On leaving the Emergency room Steve went straight to his truck and retrieved his badge and gun from the glove compartment. He did not, however, get in, instead he walked away from it and turned left towards the hospital's staff car park, leading a bemused Emma along behind him. He walked purposefully past the parked vehicles until he eventually came to a stop by a dark blue convertible in one of the reserved spaces. He moved to the back of the car and retrieved the spare key from its hiding place.  
  
The action involved him bending down. It was a mistake, the resultant wave of dizziness almost made him lose his balance. He grabbed on to the side of the car with his good arm and took a few deep breaths waiting for the disorientation to pass.  
  
Emma placed her hands on his back to help steady him. "Steve?" Her tone a mixture of question and concern.  
  
He straightened up and opened his eyes. "I'm OK," he said as much to reassure himself as her.  
  
"Please, we should go back inside." The concerned tone was now one of pleading. "You need to get that shoulder looked at."  
  
Steve knew that she was right. He could feel the blood running down his arm and knew that spots of it were dripping from the end of his fingers. At the very least the wound needed dressing and soon, but he knew that staying here would only place Emma in further danger. Not to mention the people in the hospital. Steve felt that he was already responsible for nearly killing his friend and Jesse wasn't out of danger yet. He could not risk his father or Amanda becoming involved, possibly hurt as well and there were just too many innocent people around here.  
  
He was also keenly aware that he was turning his back on everything he believed in and normally held dear. Under normal circumstances he could have stayed. He would have trusted in the police force, of which he was a part, to provide protection for him and Emma, but his meetings with Dobbs and Steele had convinced him that that was not an option. If he requested protection then the two agents would find out where Emma was. She would probably be turned over to their custody and he wasn't sure that she would survive long once they had her, if what he had witnessed the night before was anything to go by. He was not willing to risk that Emma would become an 'accident whilst in custody' statistic.  
  
He was fairly sure that the two agents had followed him to Jesse's and were the source of the second set of gunfire. He wasn't sure if they had been shooting at him or at the other assailants on the roof. Either way they hadn't seemed too worried about who got hurt.  
  
The fact that they had followed him had led Steve to another conclusion and was the reason they now stood next to his father's car instead of his own truck. Steve was experienced enough to know that he had not had a tail from the police station. He had been very careful. That meant that there were only two ways he could have been tracked. Either a tracking device had been planted on his truck by the two agents or, more worryingly, they had access to the police tracking system that was fitted to his truck by the department. If it was the latter then Steve had even less reason to believe that calling for police protection would help them.  
  
Steve did not have time to explain all of his reasoning. There were things that needed to be done and he had to accomplish them before the last of his strength deserted him. "We went through this inside," he said firmly. "We need to get away from here before anyone comes looking for us. If we don't more people may get hurt." He paused studying her expression. He lifted his hand and gently touched her cheek. "You may get hurt," he said softly. They shared a brief moment of tenderness then his thoughts returned to the practical. "Come on, we need to get out of here, find somewhere to hide whilst we sort this out."  
  
She tried one last time. "But your shoulder…."  
  
"Will keep for the time being," he interrupted. "As soon as we are safe I'll do something about it." He held eye contact with her. "I promise."  
  
Realising that Steve was not going to change his mind she sighed in defeat. "All right but you are in no condition to drive." She said taking the recently retrieved key from his hand and began walking to the driver's door.  
  
Steve's right arm was becoming increasingly useless so he was quite relieved that Emma once again took on the task of driving. He climbed in and lowered himself into the passenger seat. He checked his father's glove compartment and retrieved the cloth that he knew would be there. He needed to do something about the flow of blood from his shoulder. He placed the cloth over the wound gasping in pain as it made contact with the raw flesh. For a few moments daggers of white hot pain shot out from his arm and momentarily overloaded his senses. The bright hot sparks were mirrored by flashing lights that seemed to travel towards him before disappearing.  
  
He leant back relying on his body weight to put pressure on the wound and slow the blood loss. Checking the clock on the dash he was surprised to find how little time had passed. So much had happened it had seemed like an eternity since he had been sitting in Jesse's apartment but in fact it had been little over twenty minutes. Twenty minutes since he had been shot. Twenty minutes since he had almost lost a friend.  
  
Mark walked slowly out of the trauma room and into the ER reception. He was not really concentrating on where he was going, he was lost in his thoughts, still deeply concerned about Jesse. He did not notice Amanda exit the elevator until she was almost on top of him.  
  
"Mark," she said to get his attention. He turned to look at her, as she continued, "The nurses just paged me they said Jesse has been hurt." The concern was reflected in her expression and her tone. "What happened? How is he?"  
  
Mark briefly considered if he could break the news to her gently but years of experience had taught him that there was no way to make news like this any easier on friends or relatives. "I'm afraid he's been shot," he said as gently as he could  
  
"Oh God, how bad?" Amanda asked visibly paling.  
  
"The bullet went straight through his upper left arm and caught an artery. He suffered massive blood loss." Mark was finding it difficult to look into Amanda's eyes as he spoke. He could see the pain and concern building with each word. For a doctor this task was hard enough with strangers. To explain to a friend about a friend was nigh on impossible. His voice started to crack as he spoke. "They stabilized him enough to get him to the OR but he's not out of danger yet and…" He paused again not wanting to complete the sentence but he knew he had to continue. Amanda needed to know everything. "From what I saw they are going to have a tough time saving his arm."  
  
"Oh God!" she repeated, tears starting to form in her eyes. "Mark how did this happen?"  
  
"I don't know," he replied. "Steve brought him in, saved his life with a tourniquet." He looked away from her and around the ER reception searching for his son. "He was standing by the door last time I saw him."  
  
Amanda looked round too but Steve was nowhere in sight. "Was he all right?" She asked.  
  
"He said he was," Mark replied  
  
"But…"Amanda prompted  
  
"He didn't look it, he had some bad bruising to his face and he looked very pale." He finished his scrutiny of the room and looked back at Amanda. "Of course he had just bought Jesse in. He was covered in blood it must have been quite traumatic." He looked around one more time. "I'd better find him and check him over,"  
  
Amanda nodded her understanding. "I'll go and check with the nurses station, see if they know where he went.. Why don't you check the doctor's lounge he may have gone there."  
  
Nathan made a point of being in the same room as Agent Harris from then on. If she did find anything he did not trust her to let him know about it unless she had no choice. Between them they made a fairly thorough search of Richard Fielding's house. Nathan could tell that she resented him following her around and this made him all the more inclined to do it. It was in the kitchen that they found the next piece of evidence.  
  
Stephanie was checking through the drawers and cupboards so Nathan decided to check out the bins. Buried under a pile of empty food container's was a tied up plastic bag. He untied it and looked inside. Realising instantly what he had, he reluctantly called her over. "I think you might want to take a look at this." He placed the bag on the counter and pulled out a blood soaked dress. "I'll give you ten to one odds that this belonged to his wife," he said holding it up.  
  
"No bet detective," she replied. "I told you we've been investigating this case for months now." She looked him straight in the eye as she delivered her next statement. "I've seen her wearing it. It definitely belongs to Mrs. Emma Fielding."  
  
Amanda turned from the nurses station to see Mark exit the Doctor's lounge. Both of them had blank expressions on their faces. As they approached each other Mark was the first to speak. "He's not in there."  
  
"Well none of the nurses have seen him." Amanda replied. Her concern was growing and she was already worried enough about Jesse without having to worry about Steve too. "The last anyone remembers he was standing by the door with a woman, talking to you."  
  
Mark was worried and confused at the same time. It was beginning to look like Steve had left the hospital but why? Even if he did not want treatment himself he would surely have stayed long enough to find out how Jesse was doing. "Yes he said she was a friend of his. A woman called Emma." He paused, searching his memory for a recollection of having met or been told about the woman he had seen with Steve. He screwed up his eyes, a characteristically visible sign of his concentration but it yielded no reward, he either knew nothing about her or did not remember. " I don't recall meeting her before. Nor do I remember Steve mentioning her," he continued. "But then Steve doesn't introduce me to everyone he knows."  
  
Amanda thought for a moment too. She shook her head. "The name means nothing to me. Did you get her last name?"  
  
Mark shook his head. "Whoever she is, she helped Steve bring Jesse in and she appears to have gone too." He looked down at the floor then back up at Amanda. "It's not like Steve to leave without a word."  
  
Although Amanda agreed it was uncharacteristic, she tried to rationalise Steve's behaviour. "He must have had his reasons. I'm sure that he will be in touch soon." She said reassuringly. "Look I'm going to go up to the OR and wait for news on Jesse."  
  
Mark's concern for Steve's whereabouts had momentarily distracted him from thinking about his young friend. "I'll come with you," he said. For the time being his priorities had to lie with Jesse. He could worry about Steve later when Jesse was out of danger. Besides Amanda was right. Steve would not leave without good reason and would get in touch when he could.  
  
They both headed off to the OR waiting room.  
  
Nathan was speaking to headquarters requesting that the APB out on Emma Fielding be upgraded to a 'wanted for murder' warrant. "She should be considered armed and dangerous. I'm not sure that she is still carrying a weapon but from the injuries inflicted on the husband it looks like she's pretty unstable at the moment." He spoke into his cell phone. "There's no telling what she might do if she is provoked."  
  
"OK I'll get that information out as soon as possible." Captain Newman replied.  
  
Nathan had thought it slightly strange that the captain wanted all reports on this case going directly to him but figured that the involvement of the NSA was just making his superior a little jumpy. Involvement by any other law enforcement agencies always seemed to make those in charge want to dot the Is and cross the Ts.  
  
"Are the NSA satisfied with your findings?" The captain asked.  
  
Nathan turned to look over to where agent Harris was standing talking. She had been joined by two other men who had also identified themselves as NSA agents. The discussion they were having seemed to be getting a little heated.  
  
"Agent Harris appears to be but then, short of finding the wife standing over the body with the bloody knife in her hand, I don't think we could ask for much more. I'm just waiting for conformation that the bloody fingerprint we found belongs to Mrs. Fielding, but everything here suggests that it does." He was still watching the discussion over on the far side of the room. Agent Harris was clearly unhappy with what she was being told. He tried to concentrate back on his conversation with his Captain. "Two more agents from the NSA have arrived so I haven't really had chance to speak to her or them," he continued.  
  
"What do these agents look like?" the captain asked.  
  
Nathan described the two men talking to agent Harris. As Newman listened to the descriptions he knew that Nathan was describing Dobbs and Steele. So his suspicions had been right. Steve was somehow involved in this murder inquiry. Now he definitely needed to speak to him.  
  
He thanked Nathan for his help and requested that the young officer report to him when he got back to the station once he had picked up the autopsy report from the hospital. Then he hung up and dialed Steve's cell phone.  
  
Once the wave of pain and guilt had passed. Steve wasn't sure which of the two was worse. He turned to look at his companion. She had started the engine but had not yet pulled out of the space. She was watching him, clearly concerned by what she saw, but to her credit she did not say anything, did not waste her energy trying to persuade him again from his current course of action.  
  
Steve took a deep breath and bit back the pain. "OK let's get out of here."  
  
She nodded and pulled the car out of the car park. Steve pulled out his cell phone and left a brief message with reception. He then switched the cell phone off and threw it on to the back seat. He would not be able to use it again. If you knew what you were doing it was far too easy to trace.  
  
Steve briefly considered asking Emma about what had happened. He still had not managed to find out anything from her about what was going on. Each time he asked her, something happened to prevent the answer. Then he remembered how she had reacted to just the mention of her husband's name. She had almost gone in to shock. Steve realised that once again he would have to wait. He could not risk strong emotional reactions from her whilst she was driving. Besides he had plenty of other things to occupy his mind. He and Emma were going to have to disappear until he had chance to work out the best way to help her and keep both of them alive.  
  
The disappearance would have to be good too. Emma already had the NSA on her tail as well as murderous assailants of unknown origin. They would be looking for both of them. If that weren't enough, the fact that Emma and he were material witnesses in Jesse's shooting and hadn't waited around to give a statement would mean that the LAPD would be looking for them too, and finally Steve knew that he would need to cover his tracks very well if he wanted to prevent his father from finding him. In fact, if he wanted to keep his dad out of this, his disappearing act would have to be very good indeed.  
  
So apart from giving Emma directions he remained fairly quiet for the entire drive to the beach house as he formulated his strategy. 


	7. CHAPTER7

Part 10 A little knowledge is a scary thing.  
  
"Are you seriously telling me that you lost her not once, not twice but three times in the space of twelve hours?" Agent Harris could barely contain her fury.  
  
"She had help." Dobbs protested.  
  
Agent Harris turned a steely gaze on him. "Not the first time you failed to pick her up," she said coldly. "In fact if you had arrived a few minutes earlier or if you had bothered searching the house then we wouldn't have the LAPD all over our investigation now. You would have found the body and we could be dealing with this properly."  
  
Dobbs continued his protest. He resented the fact that this younger woman was effectively senior to him, she was one of the fast track generation and he made no effort to hide his feelings. "The tip we had said that Mrs. Fielding had the code on her. We saw her running away from the house so we had no reason to come in here. When we saw her run we assumed she had been tipped off to our approach. Our only objectives were to follow, apprehend her and retrieve the disc." There was no way Dobbs was going to take sole responsibility for what was rapidly becoming a fiasco.  
  
Steele was equally adamant about his lack of blame for anything that had gone wrong. "If she hadn't been helped by that local cop then we would have her and the code by now." He said, his tone challenging her to refute what he was saying.  
  
"One local police lieutenant," agent Harris almost spat the words in her contempt at the inadequacy of the men she was expected to work with,. "And your handling of that means that we now have the LAPD breathing down our necks," She flashed a glance over to where Nathan stood talking to one of the uniformed officers giving him instructions. Then she breathed heavily and turned her angry gaze back on the two agents in front of her who, despite themselves, shrank back slightly from the ferocity of it as she continued her tirade. "With one of their own involved there's no way they will be persuaded to let us handle it and as for the injury to an innocent civilian..." She let it trail for a moment before continuing. "For God's sake what were you thinking involving yourselves in a gun battle in the middle of a residential area?"  
  
Steele answered this time his pronunciation still somewhat muffled by the stiffness in his jaw. "They fired the first shots and took the doctor down. If we hadn't intervened he would have been killed for sure. Possibly the wife too then we'd have nothing"  
  
Agent Harris took a moment to digest this information. She calmed a little but the annoyance was still clear in her voice. "Well I suppose that's something." She looked from one man to the other.. "You'd better get back out and look for her before our Asian friends find her. Meanwhile I will see what I can turn up here. There must be some lead as to who Mr. Fielding was dealing with."  
  
"What about the police?" Dobbs asked  
  
"They think the wife killed him," she replied, "and I have to admit from the evidence I've seen they could be right. In which case it is even more important that we find her before she injures anyone else."  
  
"Could the Chinese have done it?" Steele asked  
  
"Possibly but why take the time to frame the wife?" Stephanie replied with a question. Neither man could give an answer. "Of course there are at least two other suspects." She paused to let the implication sink in. It did not take long. Both men looked at her with a mixture of disbelief and anger. She ignored their stares as she continued. "Given the nature of this investigation gentlemen no one is above suspicion." Her tone turned cold. "Your incompetence in your attempts to bring the woman in could be misconstrued as deliberate. Can I suggest that if you find her again you don't lose her."  
  
Once again Emma was concentrating on the purely practical task of driving, grateful that she had something to occupy her mind that did not involve thinking. Steve's silence worried her. She was amazed that he was still so determined to help her after all that she had put him through and still afraid that at any moment he would abandon her to her fate.  
  
She did not want to think about how he would react when she finally got around to explaining what she could of what had happened. There were gaps in her knowledge and in her memory that worried her, but if she tried to fill them in, tried to remember, then she could no longer function.  
  
Her concern about his physical state was also growing. His injury needed treating, however sound his reasoning for not staying at the hospital was. Still she knew that there was nothing she could say that would get him to change his mind, no matter how ill he became. Another thing to try not to think about. So she concentrated on the practical. Steve gave her directions and she followed them.  
  
They finally arrived at the beach house and pulled on to the drive. Steve gave Emma a set of instructions. He had everything planned in his mind he just hoped that his body held out whilst he executed it. The next couple of hours would be quite a strain. He estimated that they had 30 minutes, at most an hour, before the LAPD came here to look for him. Possibly as much as two hours more before they treated him as a missing witness and started a more official search for them both. He did not know how long it would be before the other people who had reason to find them figured to look here. At any rate he did not want to stick around to find out.  
  
He took a couple of deep breaths to try to prepare himself for the pain and then forced his protesting body out of the car. He moved as quickly as he could down into his apartment whilst Emma followed the directions he had given her. First she called for a cab and then she filled a bag with food from the kitchen enough to last them 3or 4 days. Next she went into the bathroom and retrieved a medical kit. She placed the items she would need to dress his wound on the table and waited for him.  
  
Steve quickly washed off the worst of the blood and grabbed some clean clothes which he stuffed into a hold all. As he was grabbing clothes for himself he realised that Emma would need to change too. She had some blood on her clothing and anyway too many people had seen her in the dress she was wearing. He looked in his wardrobe and saw the clothes that Alison had started leaving at his place hanging there.  
  
He reached out to grab them and stopped, his hand hesitating in mid-air as an overwhelming stab of guilt hit, deep in the pit of his stomach, as he realised what he was about to do. The sense of betrayal that he had felt earlier returned. He was going to take the clothes of his current lover and partner and give them to his former lover, still unsure of his feelings towards either of them but knowing that if the situation were reversed he would not be able to forgive.  
  
The second that he stood with his hand hovering felt much longer, the powerful emotions clouding his sense of time, and then he was moving again, pushing the emotion back, waiting for a more suitable time to deal with it. Acutely aware that such repression would probably make it all the harder when that time finally came.  
  
He made it to the top of the stairs panting slightly for breath, blood loss and exhaustion beginning to take their toll. He moved over to the couch where Emma was waiting for him. "How long 'til the cab gets here?" He asked as he sat down.  
  
Emma had watched him approach from the stairs. He had not bothered putting his shirt back on after he had rinsed the blood off. Despite the slight droop of his shoulders at the moment he still looked as good as she remembered. Tall and muscular, he had lost that youthful, slightly sinewy quality and had filled out with the years but that just made him look even more handsome to her. As he got closer she noticed the ugly purple bruising on his side and winced inwardly knowing that she was the cause.  
  
It took her a moment to acknowledge that he had spoken to her and another moment to register the content of the question. He was almost sitting down when she finally looked at her watch and answered. "About ten minutes."  
  
"Doesn't give us much time then" Steve said putting the holdall down and easing himself on to the coffee table which Emma had draped in towels.  
  
Emma moved behind him and for the first time saw the bullet wound. She let out an involuntary gasp as she looked at it. She had assumed, from the way that Steve had managed to keep going, that the bullet had just creased him but now she could see the ragged edges of a neat entry wound still oozing blood slightly and, more significantly, no exit wound. "Steve," she said when her voice returned., "The bullet is still in there." She was so shocked it did not occur to her that he must already know.  
  
"I know," he said quietly. "How bad?"  
  
She looked more carefully "The entry wound appears clean but I still should irrigate it." She moved round so that she could make eye contact before continuing, "Steve the bullet needs to come out. I need to get you back to the hospital"  
  
Steve held her gaze. His voice remained calm and measured as he replied. "No, I won't go anywhere until you are safe."  
  
"Let's call your father then." She ventured. "He could get the bullet out."  
  
"No," Steve snapped and then regretted it. He spoke more gently as he explained. "We can't do that. If he treats a gunshot wound then he has to report it immediately to the authorities. If he doesn't then he could lose his license to practice medicine." He paused and broke eye contact. "If we call him he would help me and he wouldn't report it. I couldn't do that to him." He looked back up at her. "Look just clean the wound and dress it. We'll sort it out later once we're clear."  
  
Reluctantly Emma nodded and moved back behind him. She had known before she started that arguing was useless and they did not have long. "Brace yourself this is going to hurt." She said as she prepared to irrigate the wound.  
  
Steve took a deep breath and gritted his teeth.  
  
Mark was sitting in a chair in the OR waiting room whilst Amanda paced up and down. Both of them had the necessary clearance to go into the operating theater and watch how things were going but they knew that that would not help, nor would it change the outcome. Jesse was in the hands of one of the best microsurgeons in LA. All they could do was sit and wait for news. Neither of them felt competent to work until they knew that Jesse was OK. So they did the only thing they could; wait.  
  
The door to the room opened and both of them looked up expectantly hoping that it was news. They were a little disappointed when a young uniformed officer entered. "Excuse me," he said politely. "I've been sent to speak to the witnesses from a shooting incident. I understand the victim is still in surgery but I was told that you might be able to help me."  
  
Mark stood up and introduced himself. "I'm Dr. Mark Sloan and this is Dr. Amanda Bentley we're both friends of the victim Dr. Jesse Travis but I really don't know how much we can tell you"  
  
"Did he say anything at all about what happened?" The young officer asked his notebook poised.  
  
Amanda looked at Mark, the strain of the memory of seeing Jesse on a gurney in the ER covered in blood, showed clearly in his features and in his tone as he replied quietly. "No, I'm afraid he was unconscious by the time he got here. He didn't regain consciousness before going to surgery."  
  
The emotional response was not lost on the young officer. He knew that dealing with distraught friends and relatives would be one of the hardest things to get used to. "What about the people who brought him in?" He asked as gently as he could.  
  
"That was my son, Lieutenant Steve Sloan, and a woman whom I don't know apart from the fact that her first name is Emma."  
  
"And do you know where I could find them?"  
  
"I'm afraid not they left before I got a chance to speak to either of them properly."  
  
"So they didn't tell you anything about what happened?"  
  
"No," Mark replied letting out a sigh. "I'm sorry that we can't be of more help."  
  
"That's OK. I'll come back later when Dr. Travis is able to make a statement." The officer replied putting his notebook away.  
  
"Steve's probably gone back to the station to file his own report on the incident." Amanda added helpfully.  
  
The officer looked at her. "Thanks I'll check on that." He said and turned and left.  
  
Emma wrapped the bandages as tightly as she could in an effort to stop the bleeding. Steve sat motionless apart from the deep breaths that he was taking. His eyes were closed and his face was ashen. He tried hard to concentrate on his breathing to take the focus away from the pain emanating in waves from his shoulder. He felt her hand gently touch his face it was cool and soft. He opened his eyes as she spoke to him. "There, all finished for now"  
  
"Thank you," he said his voice still tight with pain. "but I still need your help with a less pleasant task." He forced a half smile "I need you to help me get changed."  
  
Despite her concern she smiled back at his attempt at humour. "Good job I'm a woman of the world then," she replied helping him to his feet  
  
As quickly as he could manage Steve changed out of the rest of his blood soaked clothes into the fresh ones he had brought up with him. Despite the pain and danger that they were both in, or perhaps it was heightened because of the situation, he could not help the small electric shocks that pervaded his senses as Emma's hands brushed against his skin. She was forced close to him as she helped to fasten his shirt and then his trousers and he could smell her scent. He closed his eyes, lost for a moment in a memory of a time long ago and a similar situation. He breathed deeply.  
  
"Steve," Emma's slightly anxious voice finally penetrated. It was the third time she had called his name but the first he had heard. He opened his eyes again and stared into hers.  
  
"Sorry I drifted off for a minute. I was remembering the last time you had to help me dress." He paused and seeing the flash of memory in her eyes continued, "and what that led to."  
  
She smiled up at him and placed her hand tenderly on his good shoulder. "I remember too." She replied quietly as he leaned forward and kissed her and then they were both lost in the past. For a brief moment they were both nineteen again sharing their first kiss. The emotional response was overpowering now as it had been then.  
  
The blare of the horn from the cab broke their reverie and they parted lips, once more regretting the interruption that dragged them back to reality. With Emma's help Steve rolled up the soiled clothes and towel and threw them in the trash. Then he grabbed the holdall and headed for the door.  
  
Captain Newman read the brief reports in front of him again and frowned. The shooting at the apartment building was detailed in one. There were no suspects and nobody seemed to know what exactly had happened apart from the fact that there were at least four guns involved. Two men that matched the descriptions of the NSA agents who had been at the station earlier had been inquiring door to door about Steve Sloan and a woman but they had left the scene before the black and whites arrived and there were no witnesses to say whether they were actually involved. The other gun shots had been fired from rifles from a rooftop. Empty shell casings and bullet holes being the sum total of the evidence that there had been someone there.  
  
The other report was of Jesse Travis's shooting. Steve had arrived with him at the hospital in the company of a woman, probably the same one the NSA agents were seeking, and had then disappeared without waiting to see if his friend was OK.  
  
It did not take a genius to realise that these were two reports on the same incident nor that this was somehow linked to the homicide that detective Turner was working on, especially since the NSA agents in question had turned up at the murder scene, but how? And where the Hell had Sloan disappeared to? On leave or not he was duty bound to report a shooting. Dammit he could lose his badge for this.  
  
The Captain took off his glasses and pinched his nose in an effort to stave off the headache that was rapidly growing behind his eyes. He picked up the phone to call detective Turner, since this all seemed to be related to his case he needed to fill him in and, if possible, get him to find Steve and bring him in before the wolves from IA got hold of it.  
  
The door to the OR waiting room opened once more and Amanda and Mark both turned anxiously to look at it. They had been waiting almost three hours and the strain was taking its toll on both of them. Dr. Bill Taylor entered. He was still dressed in theater greens and pulled his hat off as he moved over to talk to his concerned colleagues. "So far so good," he said smiling reassuringly. "It was touch and go for a while because of the blood loss and we're going to transfer him to ICU initially just to make sure there are no complications but he came through the surgery well"  
  
"Thank god," Mark uttered. Amanda let out the breath she had been holding as a sigh.  
  
"What about his arm?" Mark asked remembering what he had seen in the ER.  
  
"Well it was very badly damaged but Dr. Michaelson's a genius. Fortunately the blood supply wasn't stopped for long enough for the tissue below the injury to be permanently damaged. The bullet itself destroyed some muscle tissue and chipped the bone but we've managed to repair a lot of that and remove the bone fragments. As you know the major risk now is from infection and..." he paused briefly. He wanted to give them only positive news but knew that he had to tell them the truth "He's probably going to need further surgery to finish the repairs Dr.. Michaelson was concerned about keeping him under the anaesthetic for any longer than necessary until he's a little stronger." He studied the worried faces of his colleagues "The important thing is that he's alive and on his way to recovering." He continued attempting to lift their spirits.  
  
Both Doctors allowed a sense of relief to wash over them. For the time being the news was as positive as it could be given the injury. "When can we see him?" Amanda asked and Mark could not help but notice how similar their questions were to those he had answered for hundreds of friends and relatives in this same room.  
  
"He's in recovery. I'll page you when we've transferred him." Dr. Taylor smiled "Trust me he's a fighter, he'll be fine."  
  
Nathan entered the OR waiting room just as Dr. Taylor was leaving. He walked straight over to the two doctors. "I just heard," he said as he approached. "How is he?"  
  
Mark filled him in on Jesse's condition repeating what they had just been told by Dr. Taylor. "We're going to go up and see him soon. Try to find out what happened." Mark concluded.  
  
"That's partly why I'm here." Nathan began. He was a little embarrassed at having to question people that he now considered friends. "I've been sent to investigate the shooting."  
  
"I thought you were already working a murder case," Amanda said somewhat confused. "I was working on the autopsy report from this morning when I got the call that Jesse had been hurt. I'm afraid I've been here ever since." She looked apologetic. "I'm sorry I haven't finished it yet."  
  
"Don't worry about the report I understand." Nathan paused debating how to continue. "Look there is reason to believe that there may be a connection between the murder and the shooting."  
  
Mark was equally confused. "What could possibly connect Jesse getting shot with a murder half way across town?"  
  
Nathan swallowed and looked Mark straight in the eye. "Your son." 


	8. CHAPTER8

Part 11 Digging in deep  
  
It had been an eventful couple of hours. Steve was not sure how he had managed to keep going but he knew that he and Emma had left a trail that would be difficult to follow. They had taken three cabs in total as well as one bus and both of them had changed clothes. Steve now wore a dark shirt and baseball cap which covered his hair completely. He had also been to the bank and withdrawn a lump sum in cash from his savings, he would not be able to safely use any cards or ATMs for some time.  
  
The car that they were now driving had been brought for cash from one of the less salubrious dealerships. One which could be relied upon, for a price, to lose the paperwork for a couple of weeks. He had more than twenty years experience working homicide in the area so he knew exactly where to go if you did not want to be found. The cell phone sitting in his pocket had similarly been brought from an outlet where if you had the cash they didn't ask too many questions.  
  
He guided Emma out of the city and into the hills. They turned off the main roads leaving the city traffic and prying eyes behind and drove into the woods. Eventually Steve directed her on to a side track which turned out to be the access road to a large wooden cabin.  
  
"This belonged to a friend of my father's." Steve explained as the car approached the building.. "He died recently, my father is executor of the estate which is still in probate. So nobody should come here. We should be safe for a while " Steve realised that this was the first time since the hospital that he had taken the time to explain to her what they were doing. She had followed all of his instructions since then without question. Taking everything, taking him, completely on trust. "I doubt if more than half a dozen people know about it," he continued, "and even less know that I know about it."  
  
Emma stopped the car and turned off the engine. "I'm sorry," She said, "about your father's friend.  
  
"Thanks but I hardly knew him. I just drove up here with my dad when he came out with the valuers"  
  
"Oh," said Emma not sure of what else to say.  
  
Neither of them made a move to get out of the vehicle and a slightly awkward silence fell over them. After the purposeful rushing around of the last few hours, with the goal of getting to this point, a relatively safe location, suddenly taking the last few steps into the building seemed like an insurmountable task. Here, there was no longer the threat, the fear, that the people looking for them would suddenly appear from behind the next building, and with that loss of fear there was no longer the release of adrenaline that had been keeping them both going. So they sat in silence temporarily drained..  
  
Steve was the first to speak. He decided that it was time to at least get some of the background on the situation he was in. So far he didn't even understand his own motives for dropping everything and risking his life and career, only the compulsion that he had to do it. Maybe if he knew more about what was going on things would make more sense.  
  
He considered carefully how to word his first question "Emma'  
  
"Yes"  
  
"It's obvious that you are in a lot of trouble. I think you need to fill me in on why these people are after you."  
  
Emma had known this would come eventually and she definitely owed Steve as full an explanation as she could manage. She sighed, "I'll try to tell you what I can but as I said the last time you asked," She turned to look him in the eye. "I'm not really sure where to start."  
  
Steve opened his mouth to say something.  
  
"I know, start at the beginning," she anticipated his comment and was rewarded with a smile and slight nod of agreement. She thought momentarily before continuing. "Richard and I married about four months after I returned to England and I got everything I wanted, well everything I deserved." Steve noted a slight bitter edge to this last comment but she quickly recovered, staring out into the trees as she continued. "As planned Richard went into the diplomatic service and began quite a successful career. My father's influence helped with that as well as Richard's own family connections. My life became what I had always imagined it to be. I was the perfect diplomat's wife. We went to parties, entertained, lived in various locations all over the world. For more than twenty years Richard's career went from strength to strength until..." Emma stopped speaking without really being conscious that she had, as she remembered the events that had ended here husband's career."  
  
"Until?" Steve prompted.  
  
She snapped back to the present "There was some sort of scandal. Weapons were being sold illegally by a British company and documents that came through the embassy had been faked. The corruption went much higher than my husband but he was the scapegoat. The sacrificial lamb to placate the foreign powers whilst the real culprits continued their careers." She turned to look at him again. " Don't get me wrong I'm not saying my husband was entirely innocent but he was the only one who lost his lifestyle, his career."  
  
Steve returned her gaze. "Not the only one." he said meaningfully.  
  
Emma sighed again. "Yes it was quite a blow for me too. I lost my friends, my position in society. Richard was allowed to retire quietly but even the hint of scandal can make you a social pariah in the sort of circles of English society where we mixed. After more than twenty years it is difficult to start again. It changed both of us." Emma looked away again. Steve needed to know about her background in order to understand her current predicament and she was doing her best to give him a factual account of what he needed to understand, but so much of it was linked to the deep emotional traumas of her life she was finding it difficult to hold her perspective. She paused again and took a deep breath to steady herself.  
  
Steve sensed the difficulty she was having. "It must have been hard for you."  
  
"Yes," she said quietly. "It changed us both," she repeated. "Changed our marriage. We began to fight a lot and then Richard...." she hesitated, tears welling in her eyes. "Richard had an affair. It almost broke us up. When I found out I was so angry." Her fists clenched with remembered emotion. "I wanted to kill him. I was , we were both going through so much and just when I needed him most..." The words trailed off again this time tears fell down her cheeks.  
  
Steve put his hand on her arm to show his emotional support and waited patiently for her to continue.  
  
Emma wiped the tears from her face. "I was ready to leave him but he swore to me, promised that it would never happen again. We moved out to Hong Kong made a fresh start. Richard still had some friends left with influence and he started a new career. I never really asked about the company he worked for. I was just pleased that he was working again and seemed to be happy. Hong Kong society is still full of ex-patriot Britons so we fitted in well. Until a couple of years ago when we had to move here."  
  
Steve was intrigued by the choice of phrase. "Had to move here?" He asked.  
  
"Yes, the new company he was working for dealt with something that my husband was uniquely qualified for; the sale of weapons. It was a legitimate company but lets say that they operated just on the right side of the law and ethics did not figure very highly on the list of company objectives. Now that the Chinese have taken over Hong Kong you have to be careful that you do not upset the wrong people. One of Richard's deals turned a little sour and the authorities were becoming somewhat hostile so the company moved him to LA." Emma shifted in the seat  
  
but kept her gaze studiously on the outside as she continued. "I didn't approve of Richard's new choice of career but I didn't find out exactly what he was doing until we had been in Hong Kong for several years. To be honest, I hadn't really cared as long as I had my position in society, social gatherings, friends, money, the things I always wanted in my life and up until a couple of weeks ago I was.." She paused to find the right word, "content with what I had."  
  
"You and Richard were happy together?" Steve asked. It had not escaped his notice that she kept referring to Richard in the past tense and from the way she had reacted the night before he surmised that his death had been fairly recent and was, most probably, connected to the trouble she was now in. He wanted to gain as much information as he could but he was aware that Emma was operating on a knife edge of emotion that threatened to engulf her.  
  
"Yes, I.. that is we.. " she became tongue tied, somehow unable to get the words out as conflicting thoughts about the situation assaulted her senses. She pulled herself together.  
  
"I loved Richard and he loved me." She returned her gaze to him. "We were happy together...." another hesitation, "at least I thought we were."  
  
Steve stared into her dark brown eyes there was pain and grief reflected in them. He wanted to take her into his arms and comfort her, tell her that everything would be all right. The last thing he wanted to do was cause her further pain and he knew that to continue her explanation of events would do just that but he also knew that he could not help her if he did not know what had happened, so he asked the question. "So what happened to make you change your mind?"  
  
Mark sank down into a chair as Nathan and Amanda joined him at the table. He had a feeling that he was going to need to be sitting down for the rest of this conversation.  
  
"Do either of you know where Steve is?" Nathan asked, sitting himself.  
  
"No, we thought he must have gone back to the station when he left here." Mark replied. "I assume by the fact that you are asking about him that he didn't"  
  
"No, nobody seems to have seen him since this morning. We've tried both his cell phone and the beach house but get no reply."  
  
"But hold on" Amanda said looking confused "I don't understand how Steve could be working on the murder we were both at this morning. Mark says he was called out at around two a.m." She looked to Mark for confirmation then turned back to Nathan. "As I understand it the body wasn't found until 9"  
  
It was Nathan's turn to look confused. "Steve wasn't called out on anything this morning. In fact according to the Captain he didn't have any new active cases. That's why this whole thing is so confusing."  
  
Mark was shocked by the news. "You're sure he wasn't called to a case?"  
  
He got a nod of confirmation from Nathan. "In fact not only did Steve not have any new cases but he asked the Captain for the next few days off to sort out some personal problems"  
  
The more information Mark was being given the less he understood what was going on "Then why did he go out in that storm in the middle of the night?" The question was addressed as much to himself as it was to the other two. He did not expect to get an answer.  
  
There was a short silence whilst everyone considered the new facts they had gleaned from the conversation. Eventually Amanda asked. "So why do you think Jesse's shooting is linked to the murder inquiry?"  
  
"The NSA," Nathan replied. "Well to be specific two NSA agents. They turned up at the station this morning to talk to Steve but they wouldn't tell anyone but him what it was about. The same two men were seen at Jesse's apartment building shortly before the shooting and before I left they turned up at the crime scene to talk to agent Harris." He turned back to Mark. "So Steve hasn't mentioned anything about any of this to you."  
  
Mark's mind was working overtime. He was fairly sure that whatever Steve was involved in had started with the phone call last night. Steve had seemed fine in the brief time he'd seen and talked to him the previous day. He didn't always know what was bothering his son but he could usually tell when he was bottling something up. He replayed the conversations he'd had with Steve that morning. Steve had said that he wouldn't see very much of him over the next few days because he was working on a case. No, he hadn't actually said it was a case, Mark realised that he had just assumed that. He had said that something had come up and it would take several days to sort out, but what? And why would Steve keep it from him?  
  
"Mark?" Nathan asked having waited several seconds for an answer.  
  
"No," Mark finally replied to the question. "He didn't say anything."  
  
Nathan took a deep breath and blew it out. "If Steve doesn't turn up soon and explain himself I'm afraid that the department will issue an APB. Steve and this woman, Emma are the only witnesses to the shooting as far as we know. Have you any idea where he might have gone?"  
  
"Apart from back home." Mark replied "No, I can't think of anywhere."  
  
"Then that's where I'll look first." Nathan said pushing his seat back to get up.  
  
Mark stood too. "I'd like to come with you." He said and then he remembered where he was and why, and was torn between his concern for his son and his concern for Jesse. He wanted to be there when his young friend woke up.  
  
Amanda recognised the conflict in his expression and squeezed his hand. "You go I'll wait with Jesse." She said softly. "I'll call you if there is any change."  
  
"Thanks Amanda " Mark said and headed after Nathan out of the door.  
  
They were heading out of the hospital past the front desk when one of the nurses called Mark back. "This telephone message was left for you Dr. Sloan." She said handing him a piece of paper.  
  
Mark took it and read it and then, wordlessly, handed it to Nathan to read.  
  
'Dad, sorry to rush off but I'm involved in something and I don't want anyone else getting hurt. I've had to borrow your car. I'll leave it at home. I'll call and explain when I can. Love you Steve."  
  
Nathan finished reading and looked up at Mark. The message was time coded not long after the shooting.  
  
"Given that, I doubt that he's still at home." Mark said.  
  
"It's the only place we've got to start." Nathan replied and with that the two men hurriedly left the building.  
  
Baker nervously entered the office of his superior. The whole operation in Malibu had turned into a complete fiasco and Baker was tired of taking the flak for it from his boss. Each new report from the field agents down there seemed to carry worse news than the last and, if that wasn't bad enough, the refusal by the LAPD captain to keep his people out of the investigation had left his boss in a worse mood than normal if that were possible. Baker wondered, not for the first time, if a foul temper was a prerequisite of the job or were there some field directors out there who were actually civil to their staff.  
  
He had taken to typing out the updates and leaving them on his boss's desk so that at least he could be out of the room by the time he learnt about the latest negative step. This time he wasn't so lucky "Is that the latest report on the Malibu case?" Director Collins asked as Baker tried to put the report down and leave.  
  
"Yes sir" Baker answered.  
  
"Well don't just stand there what does it say."  
  
The young man's nerves began to get the better of him again. He hesitated and stuttered as he spoke. "They found nothing in the house...The the wife and the disc are still both missing... and they...they have no leads on the...the shooters as yet."  
  
Uncharacteristically Collins remained remarkably calm at the news." So what are they doing?" He asked hoping at least for some positive steps on the case.  
  
"Well they are concentrating their efforts on finding the police lieutenant who was with Mrs. Fielding the last time she was seen, a lieutenant Sloan."  
  
"Is he involved in the thefts?"  
  
"They're not sure. They're checking his background now."  
  
"Well let me know as soon as they report in."  
  
"Th.. thank you sir," A slightly bewildered but relieved Baker replied and hurriedly exited the room.  
  
Collins watched him leave. He liked the young man although he was far too easily intimidated at the moment, he would make a good agent one day. He looked at the report that had been left and placed it with the others. He was past becoming angry about this one, if it wasn't resolved soon, it would cost him and several others their jobs. Time to stop shouting and start taking charge properly himself. He picked up the case file he had been reading and started again from the beginning. There had to be something that he had missed.  
  
Emma considered the question 'what had happened' The last couple of weeks had been such a nightmare it wasn't just one thing but several different things happening all at once. Things that she didn't really want to talk about but she knew she must. "As I told you Richard was working in Arms sales. He was basically a broker. People met with him and he helped negotiate the deals. All of the transfers took place overseas."  
  
The more Steve was hearing about Richard's activities the less he liked it. That the man had been involved in business that was at best unethical and quite possibly illegal and that Emma had known about it made him wonder if he was doing the right thing in helping her but it was too late for such considerations. He was already involved but he needed to hear the rest of what she had to say. He could not, however, prevent himself from making a slightly bitter comment at her latest revelation. "So he could keep his hand's nice and clean eh?"  
  
Emma heard the bitterness in the tone. She looked up at him tears once again glistening in her eyes. "I told you I didn't approve of my husband's business."  
  
"But you were happy to live off the profits?' Steve's anger was building  
  
She remained silent for a moment and then answered quietly. "yes."  
  
"So what am I helping you with here? One of your husband's business deals gone bad." Steve's anger escalated further. "Is that why the NSA agents are after you." He paused his eyes widening. "My God is that why I got my best friend shot." Steve's agitation made his pallid skin flush slightly as his breathing became shallower and more rapid. "Because of some arms deal that went bad. Is that why I'm helping you?"  
  
"No Steve Please hear me out." Here it was what she had been dreading Steve was beginning to regret helping her. "I... I would never involve you in something like that. Richard was helping the NSA. They came to him a few weeks ago and asked for his help because of his connections." She placed her hand on his shoulder "Please calm down. You have to believe me. He hadn't done anything wrong." She searched his features looking for signs that her words were taking effect. "He was trying to help them."  
  
Steve calmed a little but his breathing would not settle. "Then why are they after you?" He asked.  
  
"I'm not quite sure but I think they think I double crossed them. It's all so very complicated and now Richard's ....." The tears began to roll again down her cheeks. She tried again. "Richard's..." She still could not bring herself to say it. She began to sob.  
  
Steve regretted his angry outburst. Although she had clearly buried her head in the sand about some things, he was still fairly sure that she was the victim here. As gently as he could he completed the sentence that she could not say. "He's dead isn't he?"  
  
She looked at him through tear filled eyes and nodded before burying her head into his uninjured shoulder. He put his good arm around her and let her cry.  
  
Amanda took a deep breath and rounded her shoulders before moving round the corner towards the room in ICU. Unlike Jesse and Mark she did not come here very often. Her patients never ended up here it was too late for them. The only times she had visited ICU was to see Steve and that had been so hard. Now she was here to visit one of her other best friends and she was finding it equally difficult if not in some ways even harder. She hated to admit it to herself but she had come to accept Steve's frequent visits to the hospital as an occupational hazard. A risk that he accepted as part of his job. She did not like to see her friend suffer or in pain but somehow it was easier to come to terms with than the thought of Jesse hurt.  
  
He was so enthusiastic so full of energy, even the constant trials of working in the ER dealing with the pressure of life and death situations day after day could not dampen his spirit or his zest for life. Dammit, he was supposed to be the person saving lives not the one lying in the bed.  
  
As she caught her first glimpse of him lying so still and quiet she swallowed and choked back a tear. His left arm was heavily bandaged and raised off the surface of the bed and all of the various wires and tubes that monitored his condition, provided him with vital fluids and painkillers and provided him with oxygen, only served as a reminded to her of the seriousness of his wound and how close they had come to losing him. "Oh Jesse," was all she could say as she sat down by the bed, took his right hand in hers and waited for him to wake up.  
  
Mark and Nathan pulled into the drive of the beach house. On the way over Mark had had a lot more time to think as well as to question Nathan about the case. He did not like the conclusions that he was being forced to draw and he still had far more questions than he had answers. About the only thing he was sure about was that he had good reason to be worried about his son.  
  
Mark spotted his convertible parked in its usual place. So Steve had definitely been here at some point. He and Nathan got out of the car and headed over to check it. Nathan put his hand on the bonnet. It was cold. "It hasn't been used for some time," he said turning to look at Mark who was examining the interior of the car.  
  
Mark was clearly distracted by something that he had found. He took a pen from his pocket and carefully scraped something from the passenger seat. Nathan looked at him questioningly. "It's blood," Mark said grimly "and judging by the stain on the seat whoever was sitting here had quite a nasty wound." He looked up at Nathan not wanting to consider the idea that it might be Steve who was hurt, he stood and moved towards the house. "Come on let's check inside."  
  
Emma eventually stopped crying. She pulled herself away from Steve and looked into his eyes. "I'm sorry," she said. "You're right I shouldn't have got you or your friend involved."  
  
"No," Steve replied, "I'm the one who should be sorry I should have let you finish your explanation and I shouldn't have judged you like that."  
  
She smiled at him. "You're a good man Steve Sloan."  
  
He started to smile back but was only partly successful as all of his muscles tensed in an involuntary shiver. He bit back a slight gasp of pain as the muscle spasm caused the throbbing ache from his shoulder to increase in intensity.  
  
As though snapped out of a daze Emma suddenly realised that they were still sitting in the car. She had been so wrapped up in her explanation of events she had forgotten about Steve's injury. Mentally chastising herself for her lapse. She set about putting it right. "Come on we need to get you inside and I need to check that dressing."  
  
Steve started to protest but didn't have the energy to argue. He still needed the rest of Emma's explanation as to why they were here but that could wait until they were inside. He opened the door and started to reposition himself so that he could stand. He wasn't aware of how slowly he was moving until he realised that Emma was by his side and he hadn't even made it to his feet. She helped to steady him as he stood up. He was grateful for the assistance but once he was standing he shrugged off her help. He had made it this far he was sure that he could make it into the house.  
  
Mark knew that there was something wrong before he reached the door. It was very slightly open. He put his key away and went to push it but Nathan touched his arm. As Mark turned to look at him he saw that Nathan had taken out his gun. Silently he gestured for Mark to wait and let him go in first.  
  
Nathan pushed open the door and stepped inside. He was met by a scene of utter devastation, the contents of drawers were scattered over the floor along with the stuffing from soft furnishings, tables chairs and lamps had been overturned and bookshelves emptied. He heard a gasp from behind as Mark entered and viewed the wreckage of his home.  
  
Standing only a few feet in front of him was a slim elegant female figure. She turned as she heard them enter. "Ah Nathan I wondered when you would get here," she said smiling slightly at him. She switched her gaze to Mark, "and you must be Dr. Sloan. Allow me to introduce myself, I'm Agent Stephanie Harris from the NSA and yes I do have a search warrant."  
  
Amanda felt the slight twitch in Jesse's fingers first and it brought her back from her daydream. The next sign that he was waking was the rapid movement beneath his eyelids as though he was trying to force them open. "That's it Jesse," she said squeezing his hand. "Come on wake up."  
  
Steve stumbled a couple of times as he walked slightly unsteadily from the car into the cabin. Emma had to retrieve the key from it's hiding place and open the door. She knew she needed to get Steve inside and to somewhere he could rest as soon as possible.  
  
Steve made it through the door and half way to the couch before his knees buckled and he began to fall to the floor. Emma who had been hovering by his side did her best to support him but he was too heavy. All she could manage was to cushion his fall as he dropped to the floor.  
  
Jesse drew in a deep breath aware that Amanda was calling his name, his eyelids fluttered open, bright light assaulting his senses as he returned to consciousness.  
  
Steve hit the floor vaguely aware of his slow motion fall and of Emma calling his name but he could not hold on to consciousness. The blackness descended and his eyelids fluttered closed. 


	9. CHAPTER9

Part 12 Drifting in and out?  
  
Jesse felt like he was cocooned in cotton wool. He was confused, disoriented. It seemed like he had been asleep forever and now that he was waking up he wasn't even sure which way up he was lying. He fought to open his eyes, latching on to the familiar sound of Amanda's voice. Where was he? How long had he been asleep? Why on earth would Amanda be there helping to wake him up?  
  
Finally he was successful in forcing his eyes open. He blinked rapidly at the brightness of the light, waiting for the blurry outlines to take form. When they finally resolved themselves into something he could recognise he found himself staring up into Amanda's smiling face. She brushed his fringe back off his face. "Hi there Jess, welcome back."  
  
Jesse looked around still a little confused. He was clearly in a hospital room and he tried to remember why he was there but his thought processes were too confused, all he had were questions. "What?.... Where?..." he began, his voice was cracked and husky from lack of moisture. The anesthetic from the operation had not yet worn off and so he could not feel the accompanying soreness in his throat. He tried to sit up as he spoke.  
  
Amanda gently pushed him down and spoke soothingly. "It's OK Jess you're in the hospital. Don't try to move yet. You're going to be fine. Here," she said placing some ice chips in his mouth to relieve the dryness. "Is that better?"  
  
He nodded "Thanks," he said, his voice still quiet and weak.  
  
"How do you feel?" Amanda asked, hoping fervently that he did not feel anywhere near as bad as he sounded. "Are you in any pain?"  
  
Jesse shook his head. "No pain," he said, his thought patterns still would not allow him to stay focused. He was sure he had questions that he needed to ask but what were they?  
  
She smiled at him again. 'No pain' that probably meant that the anesthetic had not yet worn off. He still had a look of confusion on his face and she sought to reassure him. "Do you remember what happened?" she asked  
  
Jesse tried hard to follow what Amanda was saying to him but the words did not seem to make sense. "Tired," he eventually said. "So tired," he continued, allowing his eyelids to close again as he drifted back to sleep.  
  
Amanda waited a few moments to see if he would waken again then settled back into the chair still gripping his right hand. She wasn't sure if the contact gave him any comfort or if he was even aware of it but it was helping her and she knew that when the anesthetic finally let go he would need her there.  
  
As she sat thinking and waiting, she debated calling Mark. She had promised to contact him as soon as Jesse woke up but she decided against it. Jesse's brief stirring could hardly be counted as a return to consciousness. She would wait until she had something more concrete to tell him.  
  
Mark stared incredulously around the hallway and into the living room. He moved his lips as though he were going to say something but no words would come out. The shock of seeing his normally well ordered possessions strewn across the floor, some destroyed was too much for him to take in quickly. He saw and heard agent Harris but it did not really register in the conscious part of his brain.  
  
"What the.." Nathan began to say, speaking before he had properly formulated the question he wanted to ask. He was used to walking in on all sorts of bizarre and dangerous situations as part of his job and being able to think on his feet but he was shocked momentarily into inactivity as he took in the scene before him. Question after question flooded his thoughts and made him unable to respond.  
  
Agent Harris on the other hand was completely in control of both her speech and her thoughts. The reactions of the two men amused her. Both of them had let their guard down completely. It was lucky for them that she did not have hostile intent. Even though Nathan still had his gun drawn she knew that he could not have reacted quickly enough if she had meant them harm.  
  
She smiled slyly again as she spoke walking towards them. " Really detective, you could put that gun away." She was close enough now to place her finger on the barrel and push the gun down. She met with no resistance. "You might hurt someone." Her tone was quietly patronising. "We are supposed to be on the same side you know."  
  
Nathan belatedly realised that he was still holding his gun out in front of him. He relaxed his stance and allowed her to push it down, he glanced around the room once more and then turned his gaze back to her. Her tone and demeanor, standing here so calmly in the wreckage of a man's home, wreckage she had caused, was beginning to make him angry. Even with a search warrant such wanton destruction was uncalled for.  
  
"You have a funny way of showing that." He said reholstering his weapon. His tone clearly hostile. "Is this the way the NSA normally carry out a search? Or did you just let off a couple of grenades in here for good measure." He spoke quickly as his anger rose further, not giving her a chance to reply. "And why are you searching here. This house belongs to a respected doctor who regularly helps the police. I'm sure if he was asked..."  
  
Finally agent Harris interrupted, her cool facade showing slight cracks as she replied. "Now hold on. I said that I had a search warrant which gives me the right to be inside the premises. I did not say that I am responsible for this." She paused and gestured around the room. "I arrived about fifteen minutes ago and this is how I found it. And as for why I am here.." She did not complete the sentence as she realised that she had lost her audience. Nathan was looking right past her and no longer listening. She turned to see what had captured his attention to find that he was watching Dr. Sloan.  
  
Mark had moved a little further into the room and had crouched down to pick up a framed photograph from the floor. Tears were brimming in his eyes. He turned the photograph over and a slight sigh of relief escaped his lips, the picture was undamaged. He remained crouched looking at it for a moment before slowly stretching to his full height. The frame was slightly splintered and the glass was broken, but this did not seem important to him as long as the photograph was intact. That was all that mattered. Despite its condition he carefully dusted it off and stood looking at it for a few moments more before replacing it on the shelf.  
  
Nathan and Agent Harris stood and watched silently. Everything else momentarily forgotten.. There was something strangely mesmerising about watching the doctor's actions, it was as if they were getting a glimpse into the very soul of the man.  
  
As though that small act was all that he needed to do to repair the damage to his home, Mark turned to look at Agent Harris. The spell was broken.  
  
At some level Mark's sharp mind had registered the whole of the conversation between the agent and the detective even whilst he was recovering from the shock of what he saw. "So why are you here Agent Harris?" He asked.  
  
"Please Dr. Sloan call me Stephanie," she replied oozing charm. She prided herself on her ability to read and manipulate people and from what little she already knew about Doctor Mark Sloan, she knew that he was unlikely to respond to an officious approach, besides not even she could fail to register the impact that finding your home in this state would have, so she opted for her friendliest approach. "I'm sorry to have to meet you under such circumstances. I actually came here to speak to your son."  
  
Mark was not taken in by the friendly tone he could see the coldness in the woman's eyes, despite her smile. "With a search warrant?" He asked  
  
Agent Harris' eyes narrowed. "Yes, we had reason to believe that he may be in the company of a woman wanted in connection with our investigation. If necessary we needed to be able to enter the premises to look for her and an item that she may have in her possession. As it is, I arrived here to find the door open and this inside. So I came in to check it out."  
  
At this point a noise from the stairs made them all turn to look. Agent Steele came into view he had already begun to speak before he realised that Agent Harris had company. "There's nothing down here except more of the same," he reported and then stopped a questioning look on his face.  
  
Stephanie handled the introductions. "Agent Steele this is Dr. Mark Sloan the owner and you've already seen Detective Turner." All three men acknowledged each other with slight nods. "Where's Dobbs?" She asked.  
  
"He's gone to check the outside see if he can find any trace of the people that did this." Steele replied moving into the room.  
  
Mark could not help but notice the swelling on Agent Steele's jaw, nor the awkward way the man had to speak to avoid moving it. It was obvious to him that the injury was recent. Despite everything else that was going on he had to ask about it. He walked over to Steele examining the injury as he approached. He suspected that there could be a broken bone. "Have you had someone check this injury out?" He asked.  
  
"No, I haven't had time," Steele replied. In truth Dobbs hadn't given him the option and he did not want to appear weak, so he hadn't asked.  
  
"Do you mind?" Mark asked indicating that he would like to do just that. Steele gave a slight nod of acquiescence and Mark picked up an overturned chair for the man to sit on. As carefully as he could he carried out his examination, but even taking care the probing caused Agent Steele considerable pain.  
  
The irony that Doctor Sloan's son had actually caused the injury that he was helping to treat and that he had caused equal if not worse injuries in return was not lost on Agent Steele. He did wonder if the old doctor would be so caring if he knew the truth and surprised himself by coming to the conclusion that he probably would.  
  
Eventually he had finished. "I'll give you some painkillers and something to bring down the swelling," he said, "I don't think that anything is broken but you really should get it X-rayed just to make sure."  
  
"Thanks Doc, I will if I get the time."  
  
"I'll go and see if I can find my bag," Mark said and moved off.  
  
Nathan and Agent Harris were already checking out the rest of the upper floor to see if there were any clues as to who had done this or why. The number of expensive items still lying around suggested that it was not robbery although Mark would have to confirm whether or not anything was missing. The items that had been ripped open or emptied out suggested that whoever it was had been searching for something.  
  
Mark retrieved his bag and brought it back into the living room. He placed it on the table and opened it up gasping slightly in surprise at what he found or rather what he didn't find. Half of the contents were missing: bandages, dressings, painkillers, all gone.  
  
As he considered the implications of this discovery Nathan came back into the room. "I think you'd better take a look at these Mark." In his hands were several towels and cloths all covered in blood.  
  
Putting this information together with what he had found in the car it could only lead to one conclusion. Either Steve or the woman he was with was injured and judging from the amount of blood, quite badly. The missing medical supplies suggested that they had made attempts to treat the injury whilst there.  
  
For the first time Mark considered everything that they had found. His mind racing as he linked the information together. He was still left with a large number of questions but now his stomach knotted in fear for the safety of his son. He looked around the devastated room and voiced his fears to Nathan. "So either Steve or this woman he is with is badly hurt. What if they were still here when whoever did this arrived?" His voice became more panicky. "Where are they? If anything has happened to Steve.." Mark could not bring himself to finish the sentence  
  
Nathan had drawn similar conclusions. He tried to sound as reassuring as possible. "Don't worry Mark we'll find him. I've already called this in and a forensics team is on their way. We'll get to the bottom of this." His tone softened as he watched Mark look agitatedly around the room again. Being here in the midst of this was only going to serve to make him worry more. "Look why don't you get back to the hospital and check on Jesse. If we find anything I'll call you."  
  
Of course Jesse, yet another part of this nightmare. Mark felt like his whole world was falling apart. Jesse injured, his home destroyed, Steve missing possibly badly hurt. Only a few short hours ago everything had been fine. His eyes glazed over as his mind tried to deal with the emotions assaulting it, shock, worry, fear and despair all crowded for his attention as he attempted to keep himself from thinking the worst.  
  
Nathan could only stand and watch hoping that his words of reassurance were having some effect. He stood offering what support his presence could until the tell tale sirens told him that the requested back up units had arrived. He took one last look at the unmoving doctor and went to coordinate the new arrivals.  
  
Agent Harris watched the exchange dispassionately. She had heard detective Turner call the situation in and knew that she did not have long before the locals were once again crawling over a crime scene that she would rather have kept to herself. She silently cursed the arrival of the two men. With the warrant that she held she could have happily searched the premises for hours before anyone else needed to get involved. Then again she doubted if she would have found anything. Whoever had been here earlier had been fairly thorough.  
  
As soon as Nathan left Mark's side she moved over to him. "Dr. Sloan?" Her first attempt at getting a response had no effect so she tried again slightly louder and firmer. "Dr. Sloan?"  
  
He turned to look at her as her voice penetrated his thoughts "Yes," he replied still obviously distracted.  
  
She could see the pain and concern reflected in his eyes but pressed on anyway "I'd like to ask you some questions."  
  
"You can ask but I'm not sure that I will be able to give you any answers" Mark replied. There were so many questions that he was asking himself and, as yet, he was having difficulty answering any of them.  
  
"Are you and your son close?"  
  
What a question to ask. Couldn't she see how worried he was by the fact that Steve was missing? He bit back a sarcastic reply and instead answered simply, "yes, we have a strong relationship"  
  
"Then you know all of his friends?"  
  
Mark considered the question. "I know most of them yes"  
  
"How well did he know a Mrs. Emma Fielding?"  
  
Mark thought about the name. He had a feeling that there was something familiar about it, he felt that he should recognise it but not in connection with Steve. "As far as I'm aware he doesn't know anyone of that name." Mark paused as another thought occurred to him. "Although..." he paused again not quite ready to complete the sentence.  
  
"What?"  
  
"When I saw Steve at the hospital this morning, he had a woman with him whom I'd never met. He introduced her as a friend of his called Emma."  
  
"And you had never seen her before?"  
  
"No."  
  
Stephanie could see Nathan walking back towards them. "Well thank you Dr. Sloan." She said not wishing to involve the detective any more then she had to. She turned and left  
  
Mark barely acknowledged her departure. She had set him off on his own whole new line of self questioning about the identity of the mysterious woman with his son, and why the name she had given him was familiar.  
  
Nathan watched Agent Harris' hasty departure and was pleased that she had left. The last thing that Mark needed at the moment was an interrogation about his son. Under the circumstances Nathan wanted to get him away from here as soon as possible. He had arranged for one of the uniformed officers to drive Mark back to community general and, if necessary escort him up to Jesse's room. At least Amanda would be there to take care of him.  
  
Once Mark was safely in the Black and White and on his way Nathan turned his attention back to the crime scene and Agent Harris. She knew far more about what was going on than she was saying and Nathan wanted some answers.  
  
Emma knelt besides Steve's prone form and first checked his pulse. She was relieved to find that it was still reasonably strong and steady although far more rapid than she would have liked. Next she checked his airway and made sure that he was breathing. Satisfied that he was in no immediate danger she sat back to consider what she should do next.  
  
He had fallen about fifteen feet short of the couch and she doubted that she was strong enough to move him that distance whilst he was fully unconscious. Even if she could drag him it would involve pulling under his injured shoulder and that would open the wound up again. She attempted to rouse him by calling his name but there was no response. So until he came round all she could do was make him as comfortable as possible.  
  
Emma set about finding cushions and blankets. She propped Steve so that the pressure was off his right shoulder and brought in the holdall from the car. As gently as she could she removed the dressing from the wound. She did not like what she saw. It still looked angry and inflamed although it had stopped bleeding. She carefully replaced the dressing.  
  
Steve was very dehydrated and his skin was warm to the touch. Although it was a long time since she had done her training she knew that it was important to keep his temperature down and to try to replace the fluids that he had lost. She also knew that the bullet needed to come out.  
  
"Damn you Steve why didn't you stay in the hospital," she said quietly as she gently bathed his face with cold water. She took a clean sponge and used it to press some water into his mouth it was only a small amount but his swallowing reflex worked and he swallowed it down. Encouraged, she set about the slow laborious process of getting liquid into his system a dribble at a time. Interspersing her efforts by bathing his face to keep him cool. A couple of times he did not swallow the liquid properly and he began to cough, each time all she could do was sit and wait for the spasm to pass, silently cursing the pain that it was causing as she saw it etched on his face, but thankful that he was not conscious to feel it.  
  
Jesse blinked his eyes open. It took several moments before he could stand the bright light and a few moments more before he could focus on anything. He looked up once again into Amanda's smiling face. He felt her hand in his and gave it a slight squeeze of acknowledgment. He had vague recollections of waking up once before and of being in the hospital.  
  
"Hello again," Amanda said softly  
  
Jesse did his best to smile back. As his senses returned he became aware of an intense pain throbbing from his left arm. It made it difficult to think or concentrate and he was already struggling with remembering how he had ended up here.  
  
"How are you feeling?"  
  
"OK," he started to reply but decided an honest answer was required. "My arm hurts."  
  
He looked down at the heavy bandaging, "a lot," he continued. "What happened?"  
  
"You don't remember?" Amanda asked moving to adjust the morphine on the drip. Now that Jesse was awake he would need the medication to control the pain.  
  
Jesse thought about it. "No I don't..." he began and then paused as flashes of memory started to return. His eyes opened wider. "I was shot!" He said incredulously. "Nicked an artery."  
  
Amanda held his gaze. "That's right, what else do you recall?"  
  
Jesse relaxed back on to the pillow forming the recollections into a coherent pattern. "I was with Steve and a friend of his. There were some men looking for them so I was showing them the back way out when someone started shooting at us. I was hit and Steve came back to help me." As he recalled events he suddenly tensed again as he remembered what had happened to his friend. "Oh my God, Steve, how is he? Is he all right?"  
  
Amanda was confused by the question and the panicked look on Jesse's face. Apart from his mysterious disappearance and a few bruises, as far as she was aware Steve was fine. She was also concerned by Jesse's reaction. He was in no condition to be getting stressed. "Calm down Jesse and relax. You're going to pull the stitches out in your arm and you've had enough surgery for one day." Her tone was stern and Jesse did his best to obey her instructions. "As far as I'm aware Steve is fine."  
  
Jesse relaxed a little more at her pronouncement on his friend. "Good, I was worried. He wouldn't have got hit at all if he hadn't come back to help me."  
  
"Hit?" Amanda repeated, her earlier confusion returning.  
  
Jesse looked at the lack of comprehension on Amanda's face. "Yes he came back to help me and he was hit by a bullet as well." Now Jesse was confused how could Amanda not know about this?  
  
"Jess, Steve brought you into the ER and then left," she said quietly. "No one has seen him since then."  
  
They both sat in stunned silence as they allowed the others words to sink in. Eventually Amanda spoke. "Are you sure he was hit. If it was after you'd been hit.... well... you would have been pretty out of it."  
  
"He was holding me up at the time. I felt the impact." Jesse replied grimly. "I'm sure Steve was shot as well."  
  
"Oh God,"  
  
Both Jesse and Amanda turned to see who had spoken. Mark stood in the doorway to the room all of the colour draining from his face as he had his worst fears confirmed. 


	10. CHAPTER10

Part 13 Threats and Revelations  
  
By the time Nathan reentered the Beach house he had let his anger build again. The uneasy truce that existed between the different law enforcement agencies always exacerbated him. Sometimes they behaved as if they were on different sides when ideally they all should be after the same thing, the truth.  
  
In practice each organisation had its own agenda and its own budget to justify as well as the egos of its personnel to deal with. With each group believing that their priorities outweighed everyone else's, Nathan sometimes wondered how any multi-jurisdiction crime was solved.  
  
Federal, State and National law enforcement could certainly be a minefield to walk through. He was thankful that he didn't have to deal with it very often.  
  
Agent Harris' attitude and behaviour would have annoyed him at the best of times. The fact that the case involved a fellow police officer and friends of his, made him even more sensitive. So much so, that by the time he was back inside he was like a tightly wound spring just waiting for someone to trigger the release.  
  
The fingerprint team was busy working on the door as he walked back inside. Agent Harris was talking to Agent Steele and Agent Dobbs who had rejoined them during Nathan's absence. He stalked over to them.  
  
"Agent Harris," he said sharply not caring that he was interrupting their conversation. All three turned to look at him. "If you don't mind I'd like a word please." The words were polite, his tone wasn't.  
  
Stephanie's eyes narrowed as she regarded him coldly, considering his request. Her consideration was only brief. Nathan was clearly in no mood to take no for an answer, besides he wasn't intimidated by her and she could not say that about many men of Nathan's age, or any age for that matter. So, unlike most of the man she met, she found him interesting. She turned to the two agents standing next to her, not bothering to finish the conversation. "Have another look round see if there is anything that we may have overlooked," she said dismissively and then turned back to Nathan.  
  
If looks could kill Agent Harris would have had two pairs of daggers in her back, courtesy of her colleagues, at being ordered off like a pair of rookies. Fortunately she had turned her back on them, but Nathan did not miss the looks before they turned and walked away, it seemed he was not the only one who did not like agent Harris' attitude.  
  
"I want some answers." Nathan stated abruptly. His fists were clenched tightly as he held his emotions in check.  
  
Stephanie could see the taughtness in his muscles and the slight twitch of his jaw. She decided to see how far she could play him. "We all want answers detective," she stated  
  
"Yes, but you already know the answers to some of the questions I have." Nathan countered "This isn't just a murder inquiry any more, innocent people are getting hurt. So why don't you tell me exactly what you are doing here." He paused for emphasis, "Why are you looking for Lieutenant Sloan?"  
  
Stephanie smiled and made a tutting sound. "Detective, you really don't listen do you?" She regarded him a little disdainfully. "I already told you and Dr. Sloan that we think the lieutenant is with a woman that can help us with our inquiries."  
  
"What woman? And how come your fellow NSA agents were at the station earlier talking to the lieutenant?"  
  
"I'm afraid that that information is...."  
  
"Confidential." Nathan finished for her sarcastically mimicking her tone. "Bull," he allowed some of his pent up anger to release. "It ceased to be confidential the second you let your goons take part in a shoot-out in a residential area without reporting it. Especially since a member of the public was nearly killed." He moved in a little closer to add weight to his coming threat. "Now either you start filling me in on just exactly what is going on, or I will personally see to it that a full report on your agents activities is handed to every government official from here to the senate and then we will see just how 'confidential' your little investigation is."  
  
Nathan was bluffing. There was only circumstantial evidence to suggest that Dobbs and Steele had been involved in the shooting and he knew that he did not have the connections to make any real waves for agents in the NSA but he had learnt early on that the substance of a threat did not matter nearly as much as the delivery. Their effectiveness also depended on how much the person they were aimed at felt they had to lose. Nathan was banking on the fact that Stephanie had won her position politically and had ambitions to go much higher. If his assessment was correct then she would do anything to avoid waves that may affect her career.  
  
Stephanie studied his expression. If he was bluffing, he was good. She considered how much she should tell him. She had been ordered to work with him and the brief background check that she had run on him after meeting at the murder scene suggested that he was more than competent. Perhaps he could be useful to her, possibly help find her objective.  
  
"All right detective, I will tell you more." She said  
  
  
  
Emma watched Steve's unmoving form. It had been over an hour now since he had crumpled to the floor and he showed no signs of coming round. She had had plenty of time to think and had occupied her mind with memories of the past. It was so much easier to think of that rather than her current situation. If only she could turn back the clock her life could have been so different.  
  
She occupied her hands by keeping the cloth on his forehead cool and damp and his lips moist. The actions so closely mirrored the time that she had first seen him that she found images of the present and the past seamlessly blending together.  
  
She looked down at the man and saw the youth, barely nineteen when she had first seen him. The face had matured, the skin was a little more weathered, a little less taught, a few more lines but they only served to give the face character. The jawline was still square and strong and the eyes, when they were open, had lost none of their sparkle of light sapphire blue and, perhaps most surprisingly, the face had not lost the look of innocence, of trust.  
  
She remembered that that was what had drawn her to Steve all those years ago. Despite what had happened to him, what was happening all around him, he had not lost the ability to trust and to believe in a cause, in right and wrong. Now as he slept she could still see that in his face. She wondered if it was ever still there when he was awake or if the world had finally instilled the cynicism that she had felt even then into him too.  
  
She had once been young and idealistic, she had trained as a nurse because she wanted to help people but she had barely managed a year at the military hospital before the pointless waste of it all had driven her to change her views. Endless streams of sick and injured young men most still in their teens, arriving to be patched up before being sent back so the enemy could get a second chance at finishing the job, had finally made her feel that far from helping she was partly responsible for perpetuating what was happening. It was soul destroying and she only saw the patients that were expected to make a full recovery. She could only imagine what it was like for those on the front line.  
  
It made her decide that there had to be more to life than this and she had decided to take an easier path through life. It was just at that point she had met Steve and he had almost turned her around if only...  
  
She found her thoughts drifting back to what might have been if her decision had been different, it was only a slight groan from Steve that snapped her back to the present. Hopeful that it was a sign of his returning consciousness, she spoke to him softly. "That's it Steve wake up. There's so much I still want... need to tell you."  
  
  
  
Mark swayed slightly and the young officer who had insisted on seeing the Doctor all the way to Jesse's room moved in to steady him. Amanda also moved over to the door to help him. She was so concerned at Mark's pale appearance that the presence of the police officer did not even register.  
  
Jesse, however, who could only lie and watch from his bed noticed immediately. "Mark? What happened? Why are the police with you?"  
  
Mark sighed and sat down. Although shocked by what he had heard, it had only served to confirm what he had already known. It could only have been Steve who had been hurt. His son was frequently dismissive of his own hurts and ailments but he would not have willingly helped an injured woman to leave the hospital without treatment.  
  
Mark's shock at this confirmation, however was short lived as he noticed the effect that his reactions were having on his young friend. Jesse's increased agitation was causing his blood pressure to increase and his heart rate to quicken. His body was in no condition to be dealing with this sort of stress. Mark turned to the police officer. "Thank you for your help but I think you'd better leave for the time being."  
  
The officer nodded noting the doctors concern for his patient and turned and left.  
  
Mark turned his full attention back to Jesse. He knew that despite his own emotions he needed to help calm him down. "Its OK Jess" he said soothingly, "Calm down and I'll explain"  
  
"But.." Jesse started to protest.  
  
Mark looked over at the monitors and did not like what he saw. He adopted his best professional tone. "Look take some deep breaths, calm down and I will tell you everything." He turned his gaze back to Jesse, "otherwise I'm going to have to get a nurse in here with a sedative."  
  
Amanda looked from Mark to Jesse and back again. Although Mark had had time to come to terms with what had happened to Steve, she had not. She too began to get the feeling that her world was being torn apart piece by piece.  
  
Despite this, she also could not fail to notice the danger signs for her other friend. Even without the monitors she would have been worried by his agitated state so soon after surgery. "Mark's right," she agreed. "You are in no condition to be getting stressed."  
  
Jesse regarded each of his friends in turn. The curious part of him wanted to ignore their advice and insist that his questions were answered, the doctor in him knew they were both right. He did his best to relax back on the pillows and steady his breathing.  
  
Mark realised that providing Jesse with answers to his questions may help to allay his fears providing of course, that he was not entirely truthful about those answers. "Look the police officer was just here to get your version of what happened," Mark lied. "I told him that you probably wouldn't be up to talking much yet and from what I have just seen I think I was right." He held up his hand to prevent any protests. "He said he would come back later when you had rested."  
  
Both Mark and Amanda watched him varying their attention occasionally between him and the readout on the monitors.  
  
Only when his blood pressure and pulse rate had settled did either of them consider discussing the situation further. Mark began with a warning, he spoke softly. "Jess you have been through major surgery less than two hours ago." He sighed, "You should be resting. If you need to talk about what happened then Amanda and I will listen but if you get stressed again I won't hesitate to call that nurse, OK?"  
  
Jesse nodded realising the wisdom in his friend's advice. "OK," he replied. He tried his best to remain calm as he asked the question that was uppermost in his mind. "So, is what Amanda said true? Steve hasn't been seen since he brought me in here this morning?"  
  
Mark hesitated before answering. He had already decided not to tell Jesse about the beach house until he was much stronger. Mark knew that he would be upset. Jesse spent a lot of time there with him and Steve and treated the place as a home from home. The last thing he needed was to be worrying about that on top of everything that had happened to him. The question now was whether or not to lie to him about Steve, keeping the truth from him at least until he was feeling stronger.  
  
This presented a dilemma. Jesse had asked a direct question and Mark could not just avoid it or brush it off. He had also seen Mark's reaction to the news that Steve had been shot and that would be difficult to explain with anything but the truth. So what and how much to tell him? Mark had to decide quickly as Jesse watched him expectantly waiting for an answer.  
  
"Yes, he left me a note telling me not to worry. He said that he had some personal problems to sort out and that he could be gone a couple of days." Mark combined the content of the note with what Steve had told both him and captain Newman earlier, attempting to phrase it so that it put the most positive spin on the circumstances surrounding Steve's disappearance. "I'm sure that Steve can't be too badly injured or he would have stayed for treatment but you know what Steve's like when he thinks a bullet wound is only a scratch." He smiled at the thought of trying to get Steve to sit still to get cuts and abrasions treated properly.  
  
Amanda and Jesse both smiled too at their shared memories. "So you think he's OK?" Jesse asked a little more hopefully.  
  
Mark continued his smile, pushing his inner worries deep inside as he attempted to reassure his injured friend. "I'm sure that he's fine or he wouldn't have left the hospital. He's had enough of my lectures over the years about getting injuries treated properly to risk leaving here if there was anything seriously wrong." Mark wished that he believed what he was telling Jesse but he had far too much evidence to the contrary.  
  
Amanda realising what Mark was trying to do added her own reassurance. "Mark's right, Steve wouldn't dare. Could you imagine the length of the lecture if he did that?"  
  
Jesse grinned, "No, but I wouldn't mind being a fly on the wall for that one."  
  
Jesse's expression became more serious, the conversation reminding him of his discussion with Steve back at his apartment. He had promised Steve that he would not tell anyone, particularly Mark, about his visit that morning but under the circumstances maybe he should fill Mark in on what little he knew. After all he did not know much..  
  
"Jesse?" Mark said questioningly. Jesse's eyes had glazed over as he stared off toward the far wall without even seeing it, lost in thought, "Are you OK? Would you like us to leave so that you can get some rest?"  
  
Jesse shook himself back to the present. "I'm fine I was just thinking I should really tell you everything that happened this morning." He paused not sure how the old doctor would take his next comment. "Although Steve asked me not to," he hesitated, watching Mark's reaction before continuing "but under the circumstances..."  
  
Amanda, noted the hesitation and completed the thought for him. "Under the circumstances I'm sure he will understand."  
  
So Jesse described events as well as he could, from when he opened his door to Steve, up until the point where they all left the apartment together. Amanda had heard the rest.  
  
Both Mark and Amanda sat in silence and listened. As Jesse described Steve's condition when he had arrived at his apartment, it only served to deepen Mark's concern about the health of his son. He remembered his disheveled appearance in the ER earlier and kicked himself for not insisting that Steve let him check him over, but deep down he realised that there was little he could have done, Steve had been determined to leave.  
  
Jesse's revelations also only increased the mystery surrounding his son's behaviour. It was clear that Steve was trying to help or protect this woman he was with and, like his father, Steve could always be relied upon to help people who were in trouble, but the lengths Steve was going to suggested that Steve knew this person very well and if that were the case why had none of the rest of them heard of her?  
  
By the time Jesse got to the end of his description it was clear that he was fighting to keep his eyes open. There was just one piece of information that Mark felt he needed to know that Jesse had not mentioned in his account. "Thanks Jess," he said. "You should get some rest now. There's just one thing I'd like to know. Did Steve mention the surname of the woman he was with?"  
  
Jesse focused on the memory. "Yes, he introduced us. It was... Fielding, Emma Fielding."  
  
So Agent Harris had been right. Steve was with Mrs. Emma Fielding but where else had Mark heard that name? Why did he get the feeling that he should recognise it?  
  
"Get some sleep now. You need it," Mark said unnecessarily, Jesse's eyes had already begun to drift shut.  
  
Fortunately neither of them had been looking at Amanda when Jesse supplied the name of Steve's companion. If they had they would have seen the shock register before she had chance to cover it for Jesse's sake. Mark may not have recognised the name straight away but Amanda did. Steve was with the wife of the man she had autopsied that morning and the only suspect for the brutal murder was Mrs. Emma Fielding! 


	11. CHAPTER11

Part 14 Stories told. Questions answered  
  
Dobb's regarded his partner with some slight amusement as he did an impersonation of Agent Harris.. The flick of the hair and confident stance perfectly reproducing her mannerisms. "Have another look round see if there's anything we've missed," Steele repeated the last instruction she had give them in full falsetto, then added sarcastically, "Whilst I stand here and flirt with this nice young detective from the LAPD." He turned the impression off abruptly as he let his genuine anger show. "Just who the Hell does she think she is ordering us around? This is meant to be our case and she just waltzes in and thinks that she can take over."  
  
They had left Agent Harris and Detective Turner upstairs and had moved back down to Steve's apartment, waiting until they were out of sight and earshot before venturing to voice their opinions.  
  
Dobbs nodded, his anger matched his partners. "Tell me about it. I've got twenty years field experience and they promote Miss congeniality there over me and then give her authority over my case load." His tone indicated that his anger and bitterness were building. "I was defending the laws of this country when she was still in diapers and she thinks that she can do this job better than me, with her enhanced training and fast tracking. What does she know?" The rhetorical question was asked with venom. "Sitting around in classrooms is no substitute for experience." He was pacing now making no attempt to hide his hostility. His face was becoming redder as the anger made his blood pressure rise. "Experience helps you solve crimes. Experience teaches you what to say. Experience allows you to pick up the clues. It's all experience and I got plenty of that, but does that count any more?" The pause for the answer was barely perceptible as he wheeled round and headed for Steele forcing him to take an involuntary step backwards, as he answered his own question. "No, and I'll tell you why, because this young fast tracked generation is fast tracking the lot of us on to the scrapheap." Dobbs finally ended his soapbox monologue breathing heavily from the effort of venting his anger. Feeling awkward he stepped back slightly clenching his fists in an attempt to bring himself back under control  
  
Steele regarded his partner, slightly taken aback by the show of emotion. It had been three months since Dobbs had lost out in his bid for promotion and Agent Harris had moved in to take over. In that time Steele had seen his partner becoming increasingly bitter at having to work as her subordinate but he had not realised until now just how deeply his partner had been affected. This was the first time that she had interfered so directly in one of their cases. That coupled with the fact that just about everything about this case had gone wrong was clearly getting to him  
  
Steele watched as his partner paced some more trying to calm himself down. He had worked with Dobbs for nearly two years now and knew that the main reason he had failed in his promotion attempt was his cynical and often bitter attitude. It was as if after twenty years he felt that the agency owed him something. He had put in his time and he deserved a more comfortable job. Trouble was he could not see that it was that very attitude that was preventing him from getting that promotion. Steele vowed, not for the first time, to make sure that he got out of the business by any means necessary long before he became so old and bitter.  
  
Dobbs finally had his breathing under control. "Come on let's get out of here," he said heading for the door.  
  
The sudden change of tack took Steele by surprise "Where to? Agent Harris told us to keep checking around."  
  
"And you suddenly care what she tells us?" Dobbs returned bitterly.  
  
Steele shook his head  
  
"Come on then ," Dobbs said holding open the door. Steele stepped over the scattered books and pottery shards to make his way to the door of Steve's apartment.  
  
"I did a little checking," Dobbs continued, "hit redial on the phone. It seems our Lieutenant Sloan left here by cab. I thought we'd go check out where they took him."  
  
"But that guy from LAPD will have someone over there long before we get there." Steele protested.  
  
"No he won't," Dobbs grinned "I erased the number. They'll have to check for numbers dialed with the phone company and by that time we'll have a head start." They had reached their car and Steele began to climb in. Dobbs took one last bitter glance at the beach house. "Don't worry, we'll find Lieutenant Sloan, Mrs. Fielding and the disc first."  
  
Steele wasn't sure if the last comment was addressed to him or was a promise Dobbs was making to himself. He only knew that it was said with a coldness that sent a shiver down his spine.  
  
  
  
Steve awoke in a sea of pain and confusion. He opened his eyes and tried to focus on his surroundings but everything was a blur, the effort of keeping them open seemed too much so he allowed them to close again. His head was throbbing and his shoulder felt like it was on fire. The only respite was a sudden coolness on his forehead. It felt so good that he focused his attention on that as he waited for his other senses to return.  
  
He was aware of someone calling his name, speaking to him in soft but urgent tones, asking him to open his eyes, to wake up. He did his best to comply. This time he managed to keep his eyes open and slowly they focused on the face of a beautiful woman looking down at him.  
  
Emma smiled with a mixture or relief and affection.  
  
Steve recognised her. "Emma?" He said questioningly, the disorientation still claiming much of his memory.  
  
"Yes Steve its me." She said soothingly. "Just try to relax." She took the cloth and wet it once more before placing it on his forehead again.  
  
Once again Steve focused on the coolness allowing time for his memory to return. He was still and silent for so long that Emma was afraid that she was losing him again.  
  
Eventually he spoke "How long?" He asked quietly, turning his head slightly so he could get a better view of her. The events of the last twenty four hours had slid into place. He knew everything that had happened except for how long he had been unconscious on the floor.  
  
"How long since you passed out?" Emma asked, trying to clarify the question.  
  
Steve nodded slightly.  
  
She looked at her watch. "Almost two hours." She said earnestly. "You had me really worried."  
  
Steve moved his head as much as he could to try to orient himself. He was lying on the floor at the edge of the hallway where it opened out into the much larger sitting room. "Guess I didn't make it to the couch huh?" He asked making an attempt to lighten the mood.  
  
"No I guess not," Emma smiled at him again.  
  
"Typical," Steve said  
  
Emma looked confused, "Typical?" she asked  
  
"Yeah," Steve replied. "I make it across thirty kilometers of LA in and out of half a dozen places and then fall fifteen feet from the finish line. It's like being one of those Olympic marathon runners who can't quite make it round the last lap in the stadium"  
  
Emma tried to match his light tone "Yeah but they have usually run the preceding 26 miles. You covered most of it by car."  
  
"True, but they didn't have a bullet in them," Steve replied still in the same light spirit.  
  
The comment, however ended the light banter. Emma became serious once more. Steve may have been able to make light of his injury but she couldn't. Her tone became more serious as she asked. "Do you think you can make it over there now?"  
  
Steve considered it, from the way his shoulder was aching without disturbing it, he wasn't sure that he wanted to risk aggravating the injury. On the other hand even with the cushions and blankets that Emma had placed around him, spending a prolonged time on the cold hard floor was not really an option that he wanted to consider. The couch would be much more comfortable not to mention warmer. "If you help me I'll give it a go," he said eventually.  
  
Emma nodded. She carefully moved everything that might get in the way of a direct route to the couch and removed the blankets from Steve. She positioned herself on his good side and helped him to a sitting position. Steve drew in a sharp breath as the waves of pain washed over him once more. The ache from his stiff and sore muscles fighting for attention with the continuing blades of fire from his shoulder. Once in a sitting position he indicated that he needed to pause before going any further. He concentrated on taking long deep breaths.  
  
Eventually he felt settled enough to take the next and he knew probably the most painful step. He needed to make it to his feet. He also knew that he would need to do this in one attempt to have any chance of success. Leaning as much of his weight as he dared on Emma he first pushed himself to a kneeling position and then unsteadily to his feet. He stood for a moment waiting for the shaking in his legs to subside before taking a tentative step forward.  
  
He was slightly shocked by how weak he felt, the trip to the couch seemed to take forever and he was sweating and breathing heavily by the time he made it there. He resisted the temptation to drop onto it, knowing that his shoulder could not take the jarring that that would entail. Instead he allowed Emma to lower him gently down.  
  
As he struggled to regain his breath he couldn't help passing comment. "See," he said panting between words. "I told....you it was....like... the end of ... a marathon."  
  
"Yes, well let's get you comfortable whilst you recover then." Emma replied helping to prop him in a sitting position. She then went to retrieve the blankets and once she had covered him she placed the cool cloth on his forehead.  
  
"I see you haven't lost your touch nurse Johnson" Steve said as he lay back against the pillows.  
  
Emma stared at the floor without seeing it, momentarily lost in thought, then she turned back to look at Steve. "It's a long time since I've been called by that name." She said smiling wistfully "I was much younger and much wiser then."  
  
Steve noticed the strange use of the phrase but let it pass.  
  
"Since I'm back in nursing mode, you need to drink this but only in sips, that's it." She offered him some water which he drank gratefully.  
  
"So," he said in between sips. "I believe you were in the middle of telling me how we ended up here."  
  
"Yes it all began about five weeks ago...."  
  
  
  
Stephanie sat down on the arm of the damaged couch and indicated that Nathan should also sit. He picked up an overturned chair and sat facing her. She sighed before speaking. "What I am about to tell you must not end up in any LAPD reports. It could be quite embarrassing for my department. Do I have your word on that?"  
  
"I'll do my best," Nathan answered honestly "but since I don't know what you're going to tell me I can't make any promises."  
  
She looked at him skeptically and he knew she was trying to decide whether to continue or not  
  
"Look, unless I have to I won't reveal anything you tell me here. OK?" He added not wanting her to change her mind.  
  
She considered a moment longer. "Good enough," she finally said, her mind made up and she began her explanation. "For almost a year we had been getting some fairly strong evidence that someone on the inside at the NSA was stealing information and selling it to the highest bidder. The trouble was we had no real leads as to who it was within the organisation, so we needed to set up a sting, but we knew that wouldn't be easy, whoever was doing this had fairly high clearance and was stealing computer records and encryption programs which meant that whoever we used had to be genuine. Someone as good as the person we were looking for would not be fooled by planted records so....."  
  
  
  
"....Two NSA agents, the very pleasant Mr. Dobbs and Mr. Steele approached my husband. They said they needed his help to trap a traitor and knew that even though he was not an American citizen, he would want to do his civic duty to help them," Emma smiled bitterly, "They of course pointed out certain business dealings of his that would have to be investigated more deeply if he did not feel that he could help."  
  
"So they basically blackmailed him into being their contact?" Steve asked  
  
"Yes," Emma replied quietly. "They had already located buyers for some computer encryption files. They wanted Richard to contact them and then try to get the traitor to agree to sell the files through him, after all that was what he was good at brokering deals....."  
  
  
  
".....Mr. Fielding made contact first with the Chinese buyers so that if our rogue agent checked everything looked genuine," Stephanie continued  
  
"Wasn't it dangerous getting a civilian involved?" Nathan asked.  
  
"Mr. Fielding was well aware of the risks when he agreed to help us. You don't spend your life brokering weapons deals without being aware of what could go wrong."  
  
"Try telling him that now," Nathan muttered under his breath  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
"Oh nothing. So what happened next."  
  
"Well very little for about four weeks, we thought that we had blown it, the buyers were getting impatient and Mr. Fielding was becoming very nervous and then about a week ago..."  
  
  
  
"....Richard started behaving strangely not coming home or disappearing out without explanation. He claimed that he had finally made contact with the person selling the information." Emma hesitated before continuing "at the time I believed him I had no reason not to."  
  
"And now?" Steve asked sensing that there was more to this part of the story.  
  
"Now I know that.." She paused again not wanting to complete that particular sentence. She resumed the story. "At least part of what he said was true, he had made contact with the NSA agent. He set up the deal to buy the encrypted files....."  
  
  
  
".....The deal was arranged for yesterday morning. Everything was supposed to be in place for Fielding to meet with the Chinese and the rogue agent although we still didn't have an ID on the guy. We would swoop and take down both him and the buyers." Stephanie was looking increasingly unhappy as she recounted the tail.  
  
"So what went wrong?"  
  
"That's just it we don't know. The Agent who we now know was called Carlson must have got wind of the operation because the venue was changed at the last minute. So many false trails were planted that we were chasing our tails across the city for most of the afternoon. We're still not sure who double crossed whom. We just know that when the smoke cleared Fielding and the disc were missing, Carlson was dead and the Chinese contacts were nowhere to be found..."  
  
  
  
Steve sensed that Emma was finding the story more and more difficult to relate. "Go on," he urged gently at her latest pause.  
  
"Richard came home from the meeting. I could tell things had gone badly wrong but I just didn't care." Tears were beginning to form in Emma's eyes. "I wasn't really listening to him. I was so angry that I didn't care what he had to say."  
  
Steve was puzzled. "Why were you angry with him?"  
  
"Because of the photographs" Emma replied the tears were now running down her cheeks.  
  
Emma's answer did little to help Steve understand. "Photographs?" He asked.  
  
"Someone sent me a set of photographs of..." She paused and took a deep breath. "Of Richard with another woman." She was subconsciously wringing the cloth that she had been using on Steve's face between her hands. "He promised me that it would never happen again." She turned and looked Steve directly in the eye, tears still falling from her own. "He promised me... he swore to me..." She looked down and began to sob. "I was so angry with him I didn't even listen to him."  
  
Steve waited for the sobs to subside. There was little he could do to comfort her except place a reassuring hand on her arm and wait. He knew that she must be getting close to the point where Richard was killed and knew that was going to be a traumatic memory. Eventually he decided that she was calm enough. "So what happened next?"  
  
Emma blinked back the tears and turned to look at him. She looked at him for a full minute before she spoke again when she did her voice was quiet and deliberate "I don't know. I can't remember."  
  
Steve used his good hand to take hold of Emma's and gripped it gently. He spoke softly. "Then why don't you tell me what you do remember."  
  
Emma looked across at him. Despite the pain he must be in, his expression was full of concern for her. She squeezed back on his hand forcing herself to try to detach her emotions from what she had to say. It was the only way she would be able to get it out. When she managed to speak it was slow and hesitant. "I remember yelling at him. Screaming, I remember hitting him and then walking away and then..." She paused taking a deep breath to steel herself against the image. "He was lying there on the floor in front of me. He wasn't moving, he was covered in blood. I knelt down to feel his pulse but there wasn't one."  
  
Emma was staring now across at the far wall behind Steve but he knew that she couldn't see it, her eyes were defocused as she concentrated on the images of the previous day. She had stopped speaking and Steve wondered whether he should say something but he realised he did not know what to say. She was telling him that her husband had been killed and it was so traumatic that she could not recall the details. If he was understanding her correctly, she could not even tell whether she had killed him herself. What could you say to that?  
  
Finally she spoke again. "Some time must have passed because it was dark outside. I... I looked down at my dress and it was covered in blood." Her tone had changed. It was as though she were recounting a shopping trip or a day in the park. Steve realised that her actions had been driven by shock. Her brain trying to make an abnormal situation normal. "I went and changed it, my dress." She continued. "It was covered in blood. I never wear anything with even a small stain on it. It couldn't be cleaned so I threw it in the trash. Then I left the house. I just had to get away from there...."  
  
  
  
"....We finally got an anonymous tip that Mrs. Fielding had somehow got the disc and was at the house." Stephanie was clearly uncomfortable at recounting yet another failure. "So Agents Dobbs and Steele went over to the house to pick her up. They arrived just in time to see her running away across the beach and they gave chase. Not realising of course that Richard Fielding was already dead inside."  
  
"How much is the disc worth?" Nathan asked as he pieced together this tail with what he already knew.  
  
"At least 5 million dollars on the open market."  
  
Nathan blew out a whistle. "So that gives our Mrs. Fielding another motive for murder."  
  
"And," Stephanie added. "A motive for our Lieutenant Sloan to help her."  
  
"No," Nathan shook his head firmly. The idea that Steve would help someone do something illegal for money was as unthinkable as if someone had suggested he himself would do it. "Not Steve Sloan, He's incorruptible."  
  
"Oh come on detective we all have our price. 5 million dollars is a lot of money."  
  
"No," Nathan repeated. "I know Steve and his family. He just wouldn't do it. If he's involved in this then it's for some reason other than money."  
  
Stephanie watched Nathan's resolute expression. "Fair enough, have it your way until we can prove otherwise."  
  
"You still haven't told me how Steve is involved." Nathan said returning her gaze. He was trying hard to read her expression but she kept it neutral.  
  
"He met with Mrs. Fielding at about two thirty a.m. by a phone box out of town. Dobbs and Steele intercepted them but they escaped. So both agents went to the station to see Sloan the following morning. He denied knowing where she was. The rest you know."  
  
That tied in with what Nathan had been told but he still had a lot of unanswered questions. Why was Steve helping this woman? If he had helped her resist arrest then why did the NSA agents not just haul him into custody when they met him the next morning? Too much of this still did not make sense.  
  
At that moment Stephanie's cell phone rang. When she had finished the conversation she stood up. "I'm going to the hospital. Dr. Travis is awake and I've just received some information that I'd like to ask Dr. Sloan about."  
  
Nathan stood too. "Well I suppose in our new spirit of cooperation. I'd better come with you." The truth was that despite the fact that Stephanie had entrusted him with information about the case, he had forced her into it. He still did not trust her to share any new leads with him. So whilst he could, he was going to shadow his new 'partner.'  
  
  
  
"....I ran for as long as I could and then I couldn't think of what to do." She turned to look at Steve for the first time in several minutes focusing again on the real world. "So I called you." She smiled at him but this time it held no warmth, only pathos.  
  
"I still don't understand how you had my number." Steve said relieved that Emma had broken the trance like state of the last few minutes. She had raised issues that would have to be addressed but at the moment it was too raw, too painful to hope to get her to remember properly what had happened. So he concentrated on the more trivial matters.  
  
She thought about his question. "I've kept track of you since that day I left." She said pausing slightly before continuing "I couldn't believe it when you volunteered for a second tour."  
  
Steve sighed it was his turn to become wistful. "I volunteered because at the time there were things I wanted to forget." He looked across at her, "And things I wanted to remember."  
  
She could not hold his gaze, she looked down at her hands. "When you got back to the states you were fairly easy to keep track of and I was married to a member of the diplomatic core remember." She finally looked back at him a smile on her face as the memories became less painful. "You don't exactly move around a lot."  
  
"So why did you do it?" He asked his curiosity peaked. "Why keep track of me?"  
  
"Oh I don't know. I guess I just wanted to know that you were all right." She took the thoroughly wrung out cloth and dipped it in the ice water once more. Now that the subject matter was back on safer emotional ground she did not feel the need to hold on to him. She placed the cloth gently on his forehead. "Over the years it became kind of a hobby and then when we moved here I toyed with the idea of getting in touch. Catching up on old times."  
  
"But you didn't," Steve paused. "Until last night."  
  
"Until last night," she agreed.  
  
Steve knew that his next question was stepping on dangerous ground but he asked anyway. "Why not?" She looked at him pretending not to understand the question. He asked it again. "Why didn't you contact me when you moved here?"  
  
"I didn't need you until last night."  
  
"That's not exactly what I asked."  
  
"I was afraid," she admitted. "Afraid that my feelings for you hadn't changed even after all this time." She paused again. "Afraid of betraying my husband when all the time he was..." She couldn't finish the sentence. She bit her lip to avoid returning to the emotional turmoil. She needed to remain focused.  
  
Steve gently touched her face. "And had they? Would your feelings have betrayed you." He asked in a voice so soft that it was barely above a whisper. He held his breath as he waited for her to answer.  
  
She stared into his eyes. "Yes," she answered equally softly. "I believe they would have." And she leaned forward and brushed her lips tenderly against his before sitting up again.  
  
Steve released the breath he had been holding slowly. How could their feelings for each other still be so strong? He decided not to analyse it. He realised that Emma was staring at him. There was an awkward silence neither of them knowing what to say or do next.  
  
It was finally broken by Steve coughing. The action caused him to wince involuntarily as it jarred both his damaged ribs and his shoulder. Emma's show of concern was instantaneous as she was reminded of just how serious Steve's condition was becoming. She allowed him to grip her hand again as she waited for the spasm to pass.  
  
Steve was finding it increasingly difficult to ignore the pain. He had managed whilst he was listening to Emma's account of events but if he shifted position or worse coughed as he just had done the pain became almost unbearable. He realised that if he coughed again he probably would not be able to remain conscious. He also realised that without treatment the prognosis was not good.  
  
"Emma," he said when he finally trusted himself to speak. "The bullet in my shoulder. It needs to come out."  
  
Emma knew the truth in what he was saying, could hear the pain in his voice, could see it in his eyes. "I know." she said then added almost pleadingly. "Let me take you back to the hospital."  
  
"No," Steve replied, having heard what was at stake he was even more sure that if either of them were seen at a hospital it would not be safe. Everyone concerned would now assume that since he was helping her he would be as likely to know the location of the disc as she would and as such, he was now just as much of a target. He gripped her arm and waited until she was looking directly at him. "You'll have to do it."  
  
Emma looked horrified at the suggestion. "I... I.... I can't"  
  
"Emma," he said firmly trying to convince her. "You trained as a nurse. You worked in a military hospital. You've seen this done hundreds of times. You can do it."  
  
"That was more than thirty years ago," she protested. "In case you haven't been listening. I've been nothing but a professional hostess and party goer since then. The nearest I've got to an operation is carving meat off the bone. I just can't...."  
  
"Emma," Steve interrupted her. "There's no one else." He stated simply.  
  
She looked at him realising that it was true. She was his only chance. If she couldn't do it... the consequences didn't bear thinking about. "OK," she said quietly. "I'll try." She stood up. "I'll get together the things that I need."  
  
As she stood, Steve slightly released his grip so that her arm slid through his hand keeping contact for as long as possible, until finally her hand slid through his fingers. "Thank you," he said.  
  
In the kitchen Emma assembled clean cloths and hot water before looking for the essential item that she would need, a sharp knife. Her eyes scanned the kitchen until she found what she was looking for. The knife block stood on the counter over the far side of the kitchen. She walked over to it her hand shaking as she reached out to pull out one of the knives.  
  
She pulled the blade clear but as soon as she caught sight of it she dropped it as though she had been burned. The knife fell and embedded itself in the floor swaying backwards and forwards in a macabre repeat of the memory that haunted her whenever she closed her eyes. She backed away from it. Unable to take her eyes from it as it moved backwards and forwards, the vibrations dying, until it was still.  
  
She leaned heavily against the wall knowing that she would not be able to touch the knife again. It was too close, too near to what she remembered from her home the night before. A detail she hadn't been able to tell Steve about. Her memory of the bloody knife in the table.  
  
She closed her eyes tightly as the tears began to fall. "I'm sorry Steve," she whispered. She knew that if she couldn't pick up the knife that she would not be able to help him and that without help he probably would not survive. "I'm so, so sorry," she repeated and the tears fell. 


	12. CHAPTER12

Part 15 Fear and Flashbacks  
  
Mark watched Jesse sleeping for a few moments and checked the monitoring machines once more before he looked across at Amanda. There was still a lot that he needed to tell her that Jesse wasn't up to hearing yet. She too seemed to want to speak to him as she indicated that they should move outside where they would not disturb the sleeping patient.  
  
Once outside the door they turned to face each other. Amanda noted how pale Mark looked, she had known him too long to have been fooled by the false reassurances he had given Jesse. He was far more worried about Steve than he was letting on and there was something else wrong too. She considered what she had to tell him and decided that everything could wait until they both had a strong cup of coffee. "Come on to the doctor's lounge," She said firmly  
  
Mark did not object. He followed Amanda to the room at the end of the corridor waiting until they were both seated before opening his mouth to speak but uncharacteristically he found himself at a loss for words. The memories of his shattered home filling his consciousness. It took him a moment to realise that Amanda was speaking to him.  
  
"Mark what is it?" She asked a concerned edge to her voice. "What did you find at the beach house?"  
  
Mark looked up at his friend, grateful that she was there to share the burden with. Amanda, like Jesse couldn't have been closer if they had been related by blood. She was a source of strength for him, as he knew, at times, he was for her. He sighed heavily and began to describe what he had found at his home. As the description continued it seemed to her that he slumped further into the chair, his weariness increasing as though the weight of the world were on his shoulders.  
  
Amanda listened quietly, shocked and appalled by what she was hearing. They all treated Mark's home as a safe haven, whatever worries they had, there was always a friendly welcome there. It was a place to relax and contemplate the world, and more than one of the many crimes they had solved had been solved there, sitting around the table in the back room or out on the deck looking at the ocean. That it could be in the state that Mark described, it seemed unthinkable.  
  
As the description went on, she reached over and gripped his hand, the physical reassurance worth more than anything she could say.  
  
It was only when he paused momentarily from his description that she finally took the opportunity to speak. "Oh Mark, your beautiful home," she said sadly.  
  
He looked up at her. He had been staring at the table up to that point, his mind lost in the images of his description. He could see the tears glistening in her eyes. He smiled at her but the smile lacked warmth. "It's OK," he said, "They're only possessions, The place can be cleaned up, broken things replaced." His expression took on a new concern. "It's Steve I'm worried about." He pulled his hand out of her grip, subconsciously removing the comfort and reassurance that he could not reconcile with the fear he felt for his son's well being. He sat back heavily in the chair. "I was trying to reassure Jesse when I said I thought Steve would be all right but, from the amount of blood I found in the car and in the house, I'm very much afraid that the bullet wound he's carrying is serious, he really needs treatment and soon."  
  
"But I still don't understand." Amanda picked her coffee cup up, gripping it with both hands but making no attempt to drink. "He was here in the hospital. If he was hurt why would he walk away like that?" She voiced the question that was on both their minds.  
  
"I don't know," Mark replied, feeling the familiar stab of guilt. Why had he not realised that Steve needed help when he had seen him earlier? "But it must have to do with this Emma Fielding." He continued leaning back further, he closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose as he attempted to concentrate. "I just wish that I could remember where I had heard the name before."  
  
Amanda hesitated, after what Mark had just told her she did not really want to add to his list of worries, but she knew that given time he would make the connection himself anyway. She had to tell him. "I know why the name seems familiar," she said quietly.  
  
Mark opened his eyes and looked at her but did not say anything. He just waited for her to carry on.  
  
"The body I autopsied this morning," she continued. Her voice had a gentle edge to it that it always had when she was delivering bad news, as though the softness of her tone could somehow deflect some of the content of her words. "His name was Richard Fielding. Mrs. Emma Fielding was his wife and she is..."  
  
"The only suspect so far in his murder." Mark finished the sentence for her, sitting up as his eyes widened. The world weariness that had seemed to age him only moments earlier was suddenly gone as he considered the consequences of this latest revelation and mentally chastised himself for not making the connection. "I can't believe that I didn't put this together earlier." He said his tone one of self recrimination. "The coincidence of the NSA being at the murder scene and then at my house should have alerted me."  
  
It was Amanda's turn to interrupt. "Mark, I think you could be forgiven for that. You have had a lot on your mind, with Jesse and Steve to worry about and then what happened to your home."  
  
Mark sighed, his mind still trying to make sense of the increasing amount of information. "You're right," he admitted "but none of this explains why Steve is helping this woman, even less so, if she did indeed murder her husband."  
  
"Do you think she could be making Steve help her?" Amanda asked, searching for possible explanations.  
  
The thought had crossed Mark's mind too. "Possibly here at the hospital." He replied, remembering how close the woman had been standing to Steve. She could conceivably have been carrying some sort of weapon. "but from Jesse's description not when she was at his apartment. He said Steve seemed more infatuated with her." He paused as he considered other possibilities. "If only we knew where he knew her from it might at least give us a place to start."  
  
"Yes I'd like to know that too Dr. Sloan" Amanda and Mark turned to look at the speaker and both recognised NSA agent Stephanie Harris.  
  
They had been so engrossed in their conversation that they had not heard her enter the room and neither of them knew how long she had been standing there. She walked over to the table and pulled out a seat. "Do you mind if I join you?" She asked rhetorically and sat down.  
  
"Agent Harris." Mark said. "I wish I could say it was nice to see you again but somehow I don't think this is going to be a pleasant visit."  
  
Agent Harris smiled insincerely. "I just have one or two more questions for you."  
  
At that point Detective Nathan Turner made a considerably more noticeable entrance. He had followed Stephanie from the beach house and had managed to keep up with her until they had finally got separated in traffic. By the time he arrived at the hospital she was nowhere in sight so he had made his way as quickly as possible to ICU where he knew he would find Mark, cursing all the way that she had not waited for him. He had hoped that he could deflect some of her brash attitude from the old doctor, he knew that Mark had a lot to deal with, hence he virtually ran into the room, stopping abruptly as all eyes turned to look at him.  
  
Stephanie was the first to recover as she pointedly ignored him and turned her attention back to Mark. "As I was saying Dr. Sloan. I have one or two more questions for you."  
  
Mark turned back to face her as Nathan straightened his jacket and tried to regain his dignity. Amanda kept her gaze on him as he moved over to the table and sat facing her.  
  
"As I said earlier," Mark replied. "I will help you all I can but I'm afraid that as you just heard, I know very little about what is going on."  
  
Stephanie regarded him coolly. "I won't lie to you Doctor Sloan," she began, "I've been doing some checking up on both you and your son." She watched for a reaction to this piece of information but he kept his expression neutral returning her frosty gaze.  
  
He had not been sure of his opinion of her when he met her earlier. He knew that the shock of finding his home in such a state had undoubtedly affected his judgment, but now he was sure. He did not like her.  
  
Her words did little to make him change his mind. "Given the closeness of your relationship does it not strike you as strange that Steve never mentioned Mrs. Fielding to you?"  
  
Mark continued to match her cool expression. "I told you earlier, I know most of my son's friends but not all of them. I don't interfere in my son's personal life."  
  
"Still you would have expected him to mention a woman that he was prepared to risk his career to protect wouldn't you?" She asked bluntly  
  
Mark did not respond. It was a question he had been asking himself and he was no nearer to the answer.  
  
"It's just that I find it difficult to believe that you did not know of his association with Mrs. Fielding." She paused briefly. "Unless of course he was deliberately concealing it from you."  
  
Stephanie's comment was designed to provoke a reaction and it did. "I don't like your implication." Mark said, trying hard to maintain his cool.  
  
"And what implication would that be?" Stephanie asked feigning innocence.  
  
"The implication that my son is involved in some wrongdoing." Mark's continuing attempt at keeping his expression neutral was beginning to fail as anger began to show. It was bad enough having to deal with Steve's disappearance. To have his integrity questioned at the same time was too much for Mark's already unbalanced emotions. "However Steve knows this woman he would not be a party to breaking the law." He paused remembering Amanda's last suggestion. "Unless he was being coerced in some way."  
  
Mark had absolute faith in his son. Whatever he had managed to involve himself in Mark was sure that Steve's motives were pure.  
  
Stephanie laced her fingers together and sat back. "You have a touching faith in your son." She said. "but I don't think you realise just how much money is at stake here." She repeated the comment she had made earlier to Nathan. "Everyone has a price."  
  
Mark's eyes narrowed. "Not my son," he said quietly, the muscles in his face tensed as he continued to keep a check on his anger. She was provoking him and he wasn't quite sure why. What did she expect him to do? Agree with her that his own son was involved in murder for money?  
  
Nathan had had enough. "Now hold on a minute," He said, grabbing her arm so that she would be forced to turn to look at him. "We've already been through this at the beach house .I told you that Lieutenant Sloan isn't like that." Unlike Mark he made no attempt to avoid showing his emotions. "If, as you say, you have checked on his background then you would know that." His resentment at her attitude was clear in his voice.  
  
Stephanie maintained her ice cold exterior as she looked down to where he still gripped her arm. Self consciously he let go and she returned her gaze to his face. "I'm sorry detective if my attitude offends you and the good doctor here, but until I have a better explanation, I am going to assume that Lieutenant Sloan is involved in treason and murder and," She glanced over at Mark and then back to Nathan. "I am not going to take the word of a 'junior,'" she emphasized the word, "Detective in his division or the man's father, that he is just too good natured to get involved."  
  
"But his record," Nathan protested.  
  
"I've seen a lot of people corrupted for far less." She adjusted her position in her seat and waited a moment until she was sure she had the full attention of her audience. "Since you are so sure of his lack of complicity, then perhaps one of you would like to explain why he withdrew five thousand dollars from his personal account this morning." She paused to allow the information to sink in. "Because the only explanation that I can think of is that he is intending to use the money so that he and Mrs. Fielding can disappear." She watched the shocked expressions on all at the table. "Please, if you have a better explanation then do tell me."  
  
Mark was once again having difficulty keeping up with his emotions. Two more shocks in less than five minutes were not helping. The first had been Stephanie's mention of the word treason. He had known that the case involved murder although that connection had not been made by him until recently, but now he knew that it also involved something far bigger. Again he mentally kicked himself for not realising this earlier. The NSA were set up to protect the nation's secrets. The fact that they were involved at all should have rung alarm bells for him.  
  
The second shock was about the money. Stephanie was right, he had no other explanation as to why Steve would take so much from his account unless he intended to use it to avoid being found.  
  
He stared at the perfectly groomed young woman sitting across from him. He desperately wanted to defend his son's actions but realised that he was unable to do so and that realisation hurt.  
  
Nathan and Amanda were also lost for words. They looked at each other helplessly as they both tried to come up with a logical explanation for what was happening. Finally Amanda tried her earlier theory. At the moment it was the only one that seemed to make any sense since she, like Mark and Nathan, had rejected out of hand Stephanie's explanation. "As Mark said," she ventured. "Steve could be being coerced into this course of action in some way. Was Mrs. Fielding with him when he withdrew the money?" She asked. "She could have had some sort of weapon on him."  
  
Stephanie was impressed by the loyalty Steve had from his friends and family. In spite of evidence to the contrary they all seemed unprepared to accept that he might be involved in a crime. "It's a possibility I suppose," she conceded, "I'll check it out." She paused looking once again around the group. "But I think the only way that we are going to be able to clear this up is by finding both Lieutenant Sloan and Mrs. Fielding."  
  
Here at last was something that they all could agree upon. Finding Steve was certainly a priority as far as Mark and Amanda were concerned.  
  
  
  
Steve opened his eyes and looked around. He realised that he must have drifted off but was unsure for how long. Judging by the lengthening shadows in the light from the windows it had been more than five minutes. Emma was nowhere to be seen. He contemplated getting up to look for her but then remembered his agonising trip to the couch and realised that he probably would not get far. He could call for her but even the effort of shouting risked agony from his abused ribs. It would also jar his shoulder and the pain from that source was almost at unbearable levels now. So he rested his head and tried to think.  
  
He ran through the events of the last twenty four hours and fitted in the elements of the story that Emma had told him. No wonder she had been frightened and distraught. In fact, he was surprised that she had held it together as well as she had. Not only had she lost her husband of thirty years and been thrust into a dangerous situation, she was also obviously deathly afraid that she may have killed him herself and was blocking out the traumatic memories.  
  
He considered the possibility, what if she had killed him and simply could not remember? If that were the case then Steve knew that technically he was helping a murder suspect flee from justice, but the whole situation was more complicated than that. Guilty or innocent she did not deserve to die at the end of an assassins bullet and, if he had left her to her fate, he was in no doubt that she would be dead by now. After what had happened to Jesse.  
  
'Oh God Jesse!'  
  
At that point Steve's train of thought did an abrupt switch as he remembered how he had left his friend. He realised with horror that he did not even know how Jesse was or if he had survived. He pushed that thought to the back of his mind. No, Jesse would be fine, he had to be.  
  
Then he remembered how bad he had looked by the time they reached the ER. He hadn't even stayed long enough to check on his condition. A strong sense of guilt at not being there for his friend, enhanced by the knowledge that he was responsible for Jesse's involvement, briefly replaced all other emotion .  
  
He looked around for his cell phone, maybe he could risk calling the hospital to find out how Jesse was. After all the new phone would not be traced to him for a while. He finally spotted it resting on the coffee table less than two feet from the couch. Emma had obviously brought it in with his badge and gun when she had emptied the car.  
  
So strong was the desire to get information about his friend that Steve moved too quickly as he tried to reach across for the phone. He twisted his shoulder as he raised himself off the pillow and the resulting wave of agony was too much. As the pain receptors in his brain overloaded and shut off to protect him, he passed out, dropping on to his side.  
  
  
  
The conversation in the ICU lounge stuttered to another halt. Not that it had ever really got going properly. The two doctors had spent the last half hour answering Stephanie's questions and attempting to come up with ideas as to where Steve might have gone or what might have happened, but the truth was they did not know where to even start. If Steve had intentionally gone to ground then there were a million places he could hide. He was smart, he was experienced and he knew the city well. As for his motives, as well as they knew him they did not have a clue what was behind his actions.  
  
The only thing that had been achieved by discussing the matter was the realisation by all in the room that they were getting nowhere.  
  
Nathan had done his best to keep Agent Harris from getting too unpleasant, reminding her that Dr. Sloan and Amanda had done nothing wrong and were in fact trying to help. He had not appreciated being called a 'junior' detective, especially not by someone who was only a couple of years older than him and he made no attempt to disguise his intolerance of her attitude.  
  
Eventually Stephanie's tone had softened becoming less antagonistic. She seemed to be asking for rather than demanding help not that it made any difference. They still had no answers for her.  
  
Mark found it increasingly difficult to concentrate as the same thoughts repeated in his head over and over. Where was Steve? How badly was he hurt? Why had he left? The fear and frustration at not knowing the answers was taking it's toll.  
  
Finally unable to take the frustrating lack of progress any more he got up. "I'm sorry. I don't think this is getting us anywhere." He said stretching his cramped muscles. "I'm going to check on Jesse," he added turning towards the door.  
  
At that moment it opened and a smartly dressed auburn haired woman entered. Mark recognised her instantly. "Alison," he said doing his best to smile at her.  
  
  
  
Emma had lost all track of time. She moved her hands away from her eyes wiping the remains of dried tears from her cheeks and looked around the kitchen. The knife still stood stuck in the floor a few feet away. She looked quickly away from it and up towards the windows. The light was fading. It would be dark soon. She pushed herself up from her sitting position, her muscles protesting at being asked to move after being so tightly curled.  
  
She remembered sinking down and pulling her knees up against her chest. Unable to do anything but cry as the latest wave of emotion had claimed her. It had taken all of her will power to pull herself together again and she wasn't sure for how much longer she would be able to do so. Only the need to help Steve was keeping her going.  
  
She side stepped around the knife, unwilling to look at it again in case it triggered another emotional reaction, and went to retrieve the water and towels. Then she made her way back in to the sitting room.  
  
When she saw Steve she almost dropped what she was carrying in her rush to get to him. He had evidently tried to move and had fallen awkwardly so that his upper body was twisted his head hanging off the side of the couch. More worryingly he was so precariously balanced that even a slight shift would send him toppling completely to the floor.  
  
Emma reached him and as gently as she could she half lifted, half pushed him back on to the pillows. Once he was in a more comfortable position she set about checking his condition. His skin was pallid and his breathing too rapid. She moved her hand to push his hair out of his eyes and was shocked at how warm he felt. He was beginning to develop a fever. She went to retrieve the thermometer from the medical supplies she had taken from Mark's bag and took his temperature. She frowned as she looked at the results and was about to return to the kitchen for iced water when Steve's nightmare began.  
  
Emma recognised the signs instantly. She had sat with him through it so many times in the hospital after he had been brought in. She sat down now as she had then and gripped his hand. The only way she could provide comfort and help him through.  
  
  
  
"Mark, I..." Alison hesitated unsure of what to do or say, or where to start. She looked across at the other people in the room who had turned to look at her. She only recognised one of them, Steve's friend Amanda. She looked back at Mark and continued, stumbling over her words. "I'm sorry to interrupt it's just I... it's Steve, I was told... that is I heard..."  
  
"It's all right," Mark said putting on his best professional tone. He too looked back at the company. Not wishing to expose Alison to the less than tender mercies of agent Harris, he took her by the elbow and said gently. "Let's go somewhere where we can talk."  
  
Mark steered her out of the doctor's lounge and into the relatives waiting room which was fortunately empty. He sat down next to her on one of the couches and looked into her eyes. "So tell me what you have heard," he said softly.  
  
Alison gazed back. She had been worried enough by what she had heard at the DA's office to come here to find out for herself what was going on. Seeing the state that Mark was in, in contrast to the sprightly, smiling man she had left at the beach house only that morning, was filling her with an increasing sense of dread. The sparkle had gone from the old doctor's eyes to be replaced by fear and pain. His features were drawn and his skin pale. Even his movement seemed to have slowed.  
  
She swallowed and cleared her throat before speaking. "I was told that Steve was involved in a shooting incident this morning and that he disappeared shortly afterwards without giving a statement." She took a deep breath. "There's a warrant out for his arrest as a material witness."  
  
She paused "Mark is it true?" she asked as though she were desperately hoping that he would deny the whole thing.  
  
"Yes, I'm afraid it is." He replied quietly.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
Mark considered his answer. He could not tell her nothing. She had grown very close to his son in the last few weeks, one of the pieces of information that he had gleaned from her that morning was that she believed that she was falling in love with Steve and she was hoping that he felt the same. Mark had not asked her directly, he had a strict rule not to pry into his son's personal life, only getting involved when he was asked, but this had been one of the things she had wanted to tell him, almost as if she had wanted to gauge his reaction, perhaps even get his approval. Knowing that made this much harder. It was clear that she was worried about him, but how much to tell?  
  
Mark took in a deep breath, platitudes and reassurances would not work. Alison's position in the district attorney's office would ensure that she would continue to pick up pieces of information. He decided that she deserved to know everything that he could tell her. So he took both of her hands in his and started from the beginning.  
  
It was an emotional release for him. This time when he began talking he found he could not stop. Not only did he tell her the facts, as he knew them, about what had happened over the last few hours, but he also described his feelings; his concern for Jesse and his deepening fears for Steve. When he had finished he felt that some of the emotional burden had lifted.  
  
Alison had tears in her eyes. She had remained silent for the whole description simply gripping his hands more tightly as the old doctor shared his pain and frustration. Without speaking she stood and using the grip she had on his hands she pulled Mark to his feet. Once standing she let go and put her arms around his neck and buried her head into his shoulder. Mark held on to her taking comfort from the embrace. "Steve will be OK," she said seeking to reassure them both.  
  
  
  
Steve was hot, too damned hot. He raised his arm and used his shirt sleeve to wipe the sweat from his eyes. His mouth and throat felt dry and he could taste the dirt and dust as it blew in his face. He stopped and reached for the canteen that hung from the belt on his waist, his eyes surveying the acrid landscape. He turned back to see the rest of his unit strung out in a line down the road.  
  
It was his turn on point, part of him, the adventurous part, loved it being at the front, the first to spot anything, the man everyone relied on for warnings of danger. Another part of him, the cautious part, would just have soon been in the middle with someone else spotting the potential dangers. He signaled them all to take a water stop and watched as most of them gratefully reached for their own canteens. The heat could sap your strength quickly if you allowed yourself to dehydrate.  
  
One man, however, did not stop. Mike Dugan kept walking until he was level with Steve. He and Steve had become good friends over the past few weeks. Sharing duties as well as off time, had made them close. He grinned at his friend as he approached. "What's the matter Sloan?" He teased, "Too hot for ya?"  
  
"No, I just don't fancy getting chewed out by the sergeant for rolling up with a dehydrated platoon is all." He replied not rising to the bait.  
  
"You know your trouble Sloan?" Mike continued.  
  
"No," Steve replied taking a swig from his canteen.  
  
"No stamina," his friend said continuing past him and up the dirt road. He turned and continued to face Steve as he walked backwards away from him, opening his mouth to say something.  
  
Steve froze in horror when he heard the click, recognised it from his training for what it was and in that instant his whole world slowed down and changed forever as the last of his innocence was lost.  
  
He watched transfixed, unable to turn, unable to react as the anti personnel mine his friend had just stepped on blew him apart.  
  
He saw the expression of terror on Mike's face as he too was hit by the realisation of what was about to happen and then saw that expression change to agony as the force of the explosion hit him and then, in the next instant, there was no one to see.  
  
Steve heard a scream and realised that it had come from him. He was calling out Mike's name, reaching out to a friend that wasn't there any more. He became aware of other people around him telling him to lie down, shouting something about needing to stop the bleeding, but he didn't want to lie down, he wanted to help his friend. He needed to help his friend. The shock had robbed him of all reason, his mind refusing to accept that Mike was beyond help. He fought against the hands that tried to hold him down. Calling to Mike, telling him to hold on, that he was coming.  
  
  
  
Emma watched the expressions on Steve's face. She watched him smile and knew that it was the beginning, as he relived the trauma that had almost cost him his life and his sanity at the tender age of nineteen.  
  
It always started calmly, with a smile.  
  
She could tell the point at which the explosion happened, the look of abject terror on Steve's face was chilling. The desperation in his voice as he called out the name of a friend who would never hear it, made her stomach twist in knots. Then he relived the fight with his other friends as they had tried to hold him down to stop the bleeding in his neck and shoulder from the shrapnel that had buried itself there. Steve was too overcome by shock to even realise that he had been hurt. He continued to fight and writhe around all the time calling to his friend.  
  
Emma held on to his shoulders, repeating his name over and over, telling him to wake up, telling him he was safe. Steve was sweating profusely, his hair plastered to his head as he fought against invisible hands that held him down.  
  
Steve's eyes opened and he saw Emma looking down at him, but the delirium that gripped him did not allow him to see her as she was now instead he saw the twenty year old nurse Johnson compassionately looking back at him. "My friend Mike," he said his voice edged with pain, "I need to help him." His eyes were pleading with her. "I have to help him."  
  
Emma repeated the words that she had always used but hadn't spoken for thirty years. "Shh Steve, it's all right. Mike's being taken care of ." She stroked his forehead pushing his sweat soaked hair back. "You rest now, everything will be all right."  
  
Steve looked at her and blinked, he was finding it harder to focus through the pain and the fog that was descending on his senses. He listened to the soothing tone, finally relaxing back on the pillow and closing his eyes.  
  
Emma watched him relax, relieved that it was all over. She had sat with him through this nightmare at least a dozen times in the first few days after he had been brought in to the hospital, as he relived the events responsible for his injury. After that the nightmares had become less frequent but their intensity was always the same.  
  
He had never actually told her everything that had happened but she was his principal care nurse and had read the incident report. She had put that together with what his friends had told her and what little Steve would open up with, to build a picture of the trauma that he lived through in his nightmare. She knew that he blamed himself for his friend's death.  
  
She sat back in the chair and began to reminisce once more about her first meetings with Steve Sloan.  
  
She was working at a military hospital in Japan at a time when they sent soldiers from Vietnam who were too sick or injured to be treated in a war zone, over to mainland Japan, if they were expected to recover enough to return to active duty. More serious cases were transported directly back home.  
  
It was a strange place for an upper class English girl to end up but she had trained as a nurse to help people, so when her father had been posted to the embassy in Tokyo she had requested that he take her with him so that she could do some real good.  
  
She had been there almost twelve months and was beginning to resent the pointless waste of it all. So many young men, scarred and maimed, physically and emotionally. She was ready to hand in her notice when Steve Sloan had arrived.  
  
For much of those first few days he had been delirious and running a high fever and so she had been assigned to stay with him and take care of him. There was discussion, if he didn't improve, of shipping him home but after three days his fever had broken.  
  
She smiled as she remembered that third day when he opened his crystal clear blue eyes and gazed up in to hers. She almost laughed out loud as she remembered the deeply corny line that he had used.  
  
"So it's true," he said staring up at her solemnly.  
  
"What's true?" she had asked.  
  
"When you go to heaven the angels are truly beautiful."  
  
But she had been young then and such lines hadn't been repeated a thousand times on bad TV shows and made for TV movies, so she had actually been flattered by the compliment.  
  
She looked across at Steve now. The sweat still matted his hair and his breathing was unsettled. She took hold of his hand and wondered how many times in the last thirty years that he had relived that nightmare. She hoped it wasn't many.  
  
She knew without a doubt that it had been seeing her that had brought it back to haunt him tonight. Yet another of the pains she had inflicted on him in the last twenty four hours. If only she could rewind the clock and erase the telephone call that had brought him to her side.  
  
She stood up. She needed to get some ice to try to bring his fever down.  
  
  
  
Mark was still holding Alison in a comforting embrace when they heard a polite cough behind them. Alison pulled away and wiped the tears from her eyes. They turned to see Dr. Bill Taylor standing in the doorway to the room. Mark introduced them. "Dr. Taylor, this is Steve's girlfriend Alison Porter." He made the appropriate gestures. "Alison this is a colleague of mine Dr. Taylor."  
  
They smiled at each other and shook hands, "I er.. heard about Steve, terrible business." He said. The hospital grapevine had been working overtime ever since Jesse had been brought in. "I'm sure that he'll be all right though," he offered not really knowing what else to say in the circumstances.  
  
Mark recognised his discomfort. "Did you need to see me about something Bill?" he asked.  
  
"Yes," Dr. Taylor replied but it was clear that he was no more comfortable with the new topic of conversation than he had been with the last. "I know that you have a lot of things on your mind at the moment but I really need to talk to you."  
  
Mark recognised the serious tone, whatever was coming was not good.  
  
"It's about Dr. Travis."  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's note: I've tried to do some research on the time when Steve Sloan is supposed to have been in Vietnam and have tried to keep any facts as accurate as possible. If there is anything that doesn't tie up then I hope you will pass it off as dramatic license thanks. 


	13. CHAPTER13

Part 16- Acceptance and Denial  
  
Steele stepped out of the car and headed for the office. He had left Dobbs two hours ago when their latest lead had petered out and, frustrated with the situation, they had both decided to call it a day. He had been back to his apartment and tried to relax for a while before deciding to go through the files again at the office. There must be some clue as to where Sloan and the woman could have gone or to where the missing disc was.  
  
He was surprised to find that he was not alone when he entered the office. Dobbs was already there tapping away at his computer keyboard when Steele walked in.  
  
"I thought you said you were going home?" Steele said, causing Dobbs to jump slightly before he turned round.  
  
"So did you." The older man countered.  
  
"Yeah, well I guess this case is just getting to me. Let's face it it's not doing a lot for either of our reputations." He moved to sit down at his desk. "The chief suspect's dead, along with the civilian we recruited to help, the data's missing and we're getting exactly nowhere." He scowled. "I bet our Ms. Harris is just loving every minute of this."  
  
"Which is why I'm here trying to get a lead on this thing." Dobbs replied, regarding his partner.  
  
"I thought I'd access the police records, see if there are any clues there."  
  
"Find anything?"  
  
"No," Dobbs' tone was somewhat dejected, "there are some interesting anecdotes on Sloan's record but nothing to indicate how he might be involved."  
  
"So where do we go from here?" Steele asked picking up the crime scene report.  
  
"Well our Ms. Harris is checking out his father and his friends so I guess we concentrate on Mrs. Fielding and her deceased husband and hope that we turn something up first." Dobbs did not sound enthusiastic.  
  
Steele took his jacket off. "I guess it's going to be a long night."  
  
  
  
Mark turned to Alison. "If you'll excuse me a minute."  
  
"It's all right Mark, I need to go anyway." Alison replied wiping the tears away from her face. "Thanks for telling me everything." She seemed a little dazed as she continued hesitantly, "I... I'll be at home if there is any news. C..could you call me?"  
  
"Of course I will." Mark replied summoning his most reassuring smile.  
  
"It doesn't matter what time. I doubt that I'll get much sleep." She added and then headed for the door.  
  
"Alison," Mark called after her.  
  
She stopped and turned.  
  
"Are you sure that you are going to be all right?" He asked.  
  
Alison smiled at him. It was a measure of the man's character that he could still show concern for her in the midst of all that was happening to him. "I'll be fine Mark, now you go take care of Jesse and give him my love." Alison replied.  
  
Mark watched her leave, part of him wanted to stop her, she was clearly upset and concerned and he was worried about her being alone but once again he had a more immediate problem to focus on. He turned back to Dr. Taylor. "I'm sorry Bill, you were saying?"  
  
Dr. Taylor continued to look uncomfortable. "It's about Dr. Travis', " he paused deciding to be less formal. "Jesse's injury. I've done some tests and I've just been discussing the results of those and his X-rays with his surgeon, Dr. Michaelson."  
  
"And?" Mark prompted noting his colleague's reluctance to continue.  
  
"It appears there may be some complications. There seems to be more extensive nerve damage than he thought. You saw the injury?"  
  
"I was in the ER," Mark confirmed.  
  
"Dr. Michaelson did an excellent job saving the arm at all..."  
  
"Bill." Mark interrupted, realising that his colleague was trying to avoid getting to the point. If Dr. Bill Taylor had any faults it was his inability to deliver bad news. He usually had to preamble before he got around to it and Mark was too exhausted to deal with that. "What is the problem?" He asked bluntly staring into his colleagues eyes.  
  
Dr. Taylor reacted to the sharp tone and returned his colleague's gaze. He took in a deep breath. "Jesse has no feeling in part of his hand. It's possible that the nerve damage is extensive enough for him not to regain full function."  
  
Mark instantly realised the significance that would have for Jesse. It could end his career as an ER doctor. He was expected to perform surgery and hundreds of procedures that needed both hands. Mark allowed a little time for the news to sink in before asking. "Does he know?"  
  
Dr. Taylor nodded " It's kind of difficult to keep anything from a doctor like Jesse. He knows all the tests."  
  
"How sure are you?" Mark asked  
  
"At the moment it's about fifty-fifty. The damage caused a lot of swelling and the nerves that have been successfully repaired will take a while to respond normally so it will be several days before we know anything for sure, but I do know that Dr. Michaelson is concerned. He thought you should be aware of the potential prognosis." Dr. Taylor studied his colleagues' reactions before continuing. "He wants to operate again as soon as he can to ensure that he has done all that is possible."  
  
The implication that that may not be enough was not lost on Mark. "So when does he want to operate?"  
  
"To give him the best chance of success, tomorrow morning."  
  
Mark blew out a breath slowly. He considered the implications. No surgery was without risk and it would have been better if Jesse had more time to recover from the initial trauma before going through another operation, but to wait could mean that any damage would be irreparable. "Thanks for letting me know Bill." Mark said favouring his colleague with the closest he could get to a smile.  
  
"That's OK," Bill replied. "I've already told Amanda, she went down to see him just before I found you." He smiled back at Mark, "and," he continued. "I sent both of the law enforcement agents away. I told them that Dr. Travis was in no condition to answer any questions and they would have to come back tomorrow."  
  
Mark's smile became slightly more genuine. "I bet Agent Harris loved that."  
  
"She did seem a little upset." Dr. Taylor replied. "I suspect she will be even more upset when she comes back tomorrow and she still can't see him."  
  
Even in the short time Dr. Taylor had spent in Agent Harris' company he had decided that he did not like her arrogant attitude. Nathan on the other hand, he had met before and knew that Mark Jesse and Amanda had all worked with him. "I also had a quiet word with Detective Turner," he added. "I told him that if he came in early tomorrow, Jesse might be up to speaking with him for a short time before he goes down for surgery."  
  
Mark nodded and smiled once more. "Thanks again Bill." He said and then his eyes glazed over as he became lost in his own train of thoughts  
  
There was a short but uncomfortable silence. Dr. Taylor was uncertain of what else to add. He wanted to offer some further words of reassurance or comfort to his colleague but in the circumstances he knew that they would do little good. From the faraway expression on Mark's face he did not think that he would hear him anyway.  
  
"OK I'd better get back to my rounds." He finally said. Mark did not reply confirming his suspicions that the old doctor was no longer listening. Leaving Mark to his thoughts he exited the room.  
  
  
  
Director Collins slammed the file own on his desk and pressed the intercom button. "Baker, are you still there?" He asked brusquely.  
  
"Yes sir," came the slightly hesitant reply  
  
"Then get in here." Collins took his finger off the intercom and continued to scowl at the file.  
  
Baker entered hesitantly a few moments later. Obviously his boss's conciliatory mood had not lasted. He stood and waited for the next barked order and so was somewhat taken aback when he was asked a question.  
  
"How long have you worked for me?"  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"How long have you worked in this office?" Collins repeated.  
  
"Six months sir." Baker replied when he finally got his mind to acknowledge the question.  
  
"And before that?"  
  
"I worked in the Dallas office sir"  
  
"Field assignments?"  
  
"No sir, only office work so far sir."  
  
Collins sat back in his chair and studied the young man who began to feel even more uncomfortable under the scrutiny.  
  
Abruptly Collins sat up in his chair and pulled it back towards his desk. So abruptly that he made the young man opposite flinch back from the sudden movement. "Then this will be your opportunity to prove yourself." He said turning his customary scowl into an equally unsettling smile. "Book us two seats on the next flight to LAX and then go home and pack."  
  
"Sir?" Baker asked bewildered by the order.  
  
Collins held his subordinates gaze. "You and I, Baker, are going to go and sort out this mess in Malibu."  
  
  
  
Mark wasn't sure how long he had remained in the relatives room after Dr. Taylor had left. Come to think of it he couldn't remember Bill leaving. He hoped that he hadn't been rude but he had so many things to think about that he just did not no where to start. Each chain of thought brought it's own sets of worries and concerns and crowded for attention with so many others.  
  
It had now been nearly twelve hours since he or anyone else had heard from Steve. Twelve hours since he had left the hospital injured. Each time he thought about it Mark was faced with the frustration of not knowing where his son was or what was happening to him, only that he was out in the city somewhere, hurt and in need of help. The fact that Steve seemed to have willingly walked himself into this situation did little to allay his fears Part of him just wanted to sit down and cry, let the emotion that was building up inside him out, but he knew that would not help his son or his friend who lay only a few feet away in a hospital bed.  
  
Mark wiped away the tears that were threatening in his eyes and took a deep breath to steel himself to return to Jesse's room. Whatever else was going on Jesse needed his help and support.  
  
Mark had been Jesse's mentor from the moment they had met back when Jesse was an intern. Now, five years on, Jesse was in charge of the ER and he thrived on it. Mark shuddered to think how his young protégé would respond if that role were taken away from him.  
  
As he entered the room both Jesse and Amanda turned to smile at him.  
  
"Hey we were just wondering where you were." Jesse said as brightly as the pain medication would allow. "Are you OK?" he asked as Mark approached the bed. Even in his slightly doped state it was difficult not to notice Mark's increasingly haggard appearance as the worry took it's toll.  
  
"Mark smiled back. "Shouldn't I be asking you that?" He replied avoiding the question. "So how are you feeling?"  
  
"Better since they told me they were going to operate again in the morning." Jesse replied grinning. He allowed Mark's puzzled expression for a few seconds before pointing to the 'nil by mouth' sign above the bed. "It means I get a reprieve on the hospital food."  
  
Mark couldn't help but smile at the joke. He looked up at Amanda and tried to read her expression. She wasn't smiling, instead there was a deep concern there. Mark looked back down at his young friend. "Seriously Jess, I just talked to Dr. Taylor. If you want to talk...."  
  
"Hey, I am serious," Jesse interrupted. "I'm fine Mark or at least I will be once this arm heals up." He stopped speaking for a moment looking first at Amanda and then back at Mark "and despite what Dr. Taylor said it will heal up. I have every confidence in Dr. Michaelson. He's a brilliant surgeon. I've seen him reattach completely severed limbs and the patient has made a full recovery. So you see there's nothing to worry about."  
  
Mark looked at Amanda, his eyes now reflecting the concern in hers. He had years of experience dealing with patients when they were given a negative prognosis and he knew that his friend wasn't putting on a brave face, he was denying the possibility that there was anything wrong. If the worst turned out to be true, Mark and Amanda both knew that they would have to help him deal with that denial.  
  
"So have you heard anything more about Steve?" Jesse asked, changing the subject. He did not want to think about himself or dwell on what Dr. Taylor had told him. If he allowed himself to consider it, well, he knew too much not to go into all of the possibilities. No, he just had to believe in Dr. Michaelson's skills and then everything would be all right.  
  
Mark sank down into one of the bedside chairs. "No, nothing new," he said trying hard to keep the dejection out of his voice. He looked out of the window at the encroaching darkness. It was going to be a long night.  
  
It was at that point that the phone rang. Mark moved to answer it explaining as he went. "I've arranged to have my phone calls diverted here just in case Steve tries to get in touch at the beach house whilst I'm not there." He did not add although Amanda had surmised it from their earlier conversation that he had no intention of returning to the beach house until he knew what had happened to Steve.  
  
The thought of returning to his wrecked home was bad enough. The thought of being alone there, not knowing where or how Steve was, was unthinkable.  
  
Mark approached the phone with trepidation. The knowledge that it may bring news from Steve or may possibly be Steve himself made his gut tie itself in knots. As he reached out to pick up the receiver he could not control the slight shake of his hands.  
  
"Hello, Dr. Sloan," he said having to clear his throat as the words caught. The disappointment he felt when he recognised the voice at the other end and it was not Steve's was almost palpable. The fear that the speaker may still have bad news was etched in his face.  
  
"Mark it's Jack Newman here." The police captain did not use his title when speaking to Mark they had known each other for a while now and even though he was Steve's boss they were still on first name terms.  
  
"Jack. What can I do for you?" Mark asked trying to sound calm, despite the turmoil of emotion that gripped him.  
  
"I just wondered if you had heard from Steve?"  
  
Mark let out the breath he had been holding. At least the phone call was not bad news. "No I haven't."  
  
"I was afraid of that," there was concern in the captain's voice. "I kept internal affairs out of this as long as possible Mark, but I have to tell you they've put out an APB for Steve and the woman he was seen with" he continued apologetically. "I thought I'd better tell you myself rather than let you hear it from someone else. I'm afraid Steve could be in a lot of trouble."  
  
Mark did not tell him that he had already heard the news from someone else, nor did he point out that a police warrant was the least of the concerns he had for his son. Instead he said simply "Thanks for letting me know."  
  
"If you should hear from him..." the captain began.  
  
"I'll be sure to get in touch." Mark confirmed.  
  
"If you contact me directly I'll help all I can."  
  
"Thank you, I appreciate that," Mark said, genuinely grateful at the captain's concern, "and if you hear anything.."  
  
"You'll be the first to know."  
  
Mark replaced the receiver and turned back to his friends. Although they had only heard his side of the conversation they had watched his reactions and at least knew that the situation had not worsened. They waited patiently for him to fill them in. Mark sat down before confirming that there was still no news on Steve.  
  
  
  
Emma did her best to keep Steve's temperature down and, as she had for much of the day to try to get him to drink some liquid but she knew that she was fighting a losing battle. With each passing hour his condition deteriorated slightly. He had developed a fever and even on the occasions when he returned to some form of consciousness he could not recognise her. It was clear to her that an infection was taking hold. In his weakened state from the blood loss and dehydration his body was simply unable to fight it and he was becoming progressively weaker.  
  
Emma sat back in the chair. She had done all she could for the time being and Steve seemed to be resting relatively comfortably. She stared out of the window into the darkness and said a silent prayer. It was the only thing she could think of to do.  
  
She felt so helpless, unable to help the man that had risked everything to help her. The tears that she thought she must have run out of by now started to fall once more. "Oh Steve, what have I done to you?" she said quietly resting her head against his good shoulder, allowing the sobbing to take over. Finally the mental and physical exhaustion claimed her and she fell into a troubled sleep.  
  
  
  
Mark remained in Jesse's hospital room for the rest of the evening. Both he and Jesse had insisted that Amanda go home to see her sons and although she wanted to stay to help and support her friends, she had finally accepted that they were there for each other. Having secured a promise that they would call her if there was anything at all they needed, she had left.  
  
Mark had settled himself into a chair. He had no intention of leaving Jesse alone just in case he changed his mind and wanted to talk about his injury. He also did not want to be, could not be alone whilst he waited for news on his son and he realised with some pain that he did not have anywhere else he could go. His home in the real sense of the word, the place he felt safe, secure and familiar, simply was not there.  
  
The trauma Jesse had suffered together with the pain medication meant that he kept drifting off to sleep leaving Mark with nothing to do except sit and think. Unwilling to spend the time dwelling on his fear and frustration Mark instead allowed his mind to drift into nostalgic memories of all the good times that he had spent with his son.  
  
Unable to sleep he remained at Jesse's bedside as the seemingly endless hours of the night dragged slowly by.  
  
  
  
"Emma?"  
  
Emma was awoken from her sleep by somebody softly calling her name. It took her a few moments to orient herself. She sat up and rubbed her eyes attempting to clear them and shake the stiffness out of her muscles and then she looked across at Steve staring at her. His crystal blue eyes, slightly dulled by pain gazing deeply into hers.  
  
"Sorry," he said "I didn't realise you were asleep. I didn't mean to wake you"  
  
Emma realised that for the first time in several hours Steve was awake and lucid. "No, I'm glad you did." She replied smiling warmly at him. "It's good to see you awake." She thought for a few moments before she continued hesitantly "Steve I..."  
  
Steve spoke simultaneously "I just.." They both stopped. "You first." Steve said.  
  
Emma took a deep breath gathering the courage for what she had to say once more. "It's about the bullet Steve," she paused unsure of how to continue, of how to word what she had to say. "I'm sorry. I tried truly I did." She looked down unable to hold his gaze. "But the knife... I just couldn't.... I tried but.."  
  
"Hey," Steve interrupted. "It's OK I understand," he said gently  
  
She looked back at him aware that what she had said had made little sense but willing to take the comfort that Steve's words gave her. "You do?"  
  
Steve still did not know the full extent of the trauma Emma had suffered when she found her husband but he could imagine enough to know that asking her to approach him with a knife in her current state of mind, was asking the impossible. He stared directly back at her. "Yes I do," he said firmly, "And its all right."  
  
Emma looked relieved but it was short lived, her eyes became fearful once more. "No, it's not all right. If the bullet isn't removed then you're going to... You could..." She could not bring herself to complete the sentence. She looked down at the ground unable to look at him as the apology that she had repeated to his sleeping form poured out. "I'm sorry Steve, I should never have called you. I shouldn't have got you involved. It's brought you nothing but pain and misery and now..."  
  
"Hey, stop it," Steve interrupted he placed his hand under her chin and pushed it up forcing her to look into his eyes as he spoke. "You have nothing to apologise for. Do you hear me?"  
  
He paused to study her expression when he got no response he continued. "I've been free to chose what to do at every stage and we are here now because it is what I have chosen to do." He tried to make his tone as firm as possible. "You are not responsible for what happens to me."  
  
At that Emma could not keep quiet "But.." She started to protest.  
  
Steve swallowed hard he could feel his strength failing and he needed to get Emma to understand what he had to say. He had had time to consider his position and accept what was happening. Now he just had to get Emma to do the same.  
  
"No," he cut short her protest. "You must listen to me. Whatever happens I want you to make me a promise." He paused and she nodded slightly to indicate that he should continue. "I want you to promise me that you will take the money and get away from here. As far as you possibly can until you are out of danger."  
  
Emma's eyes widened with horror as the full implication of what he was saying hit her. "No Steve I..."  
  
"Promise me," Steve said urgently.  
  
"But I can't... You...."  
  
"Promise me," Steve repeated. "Otherwise everything I've done in the last day. All that's happened will be for nothing." There was a pleading tone in Steve's voice. He knew that his strength was fading and he did not now how long he could hold on to consciousness.  
  
Emma looked at him helplessly. He couldn't mean what he was saying. She stared deep into his eyes and saw only sincerity and concern for her..  
  
"Promise me," he repeated softly for a third time, returning her gaze.  
  
Unable to resist any longer. Emma squeezed her eyes tightly closed. "I promise," she said as a single tear ran down her face.  
  
Relieved Steve sank back onto the pillows. "Thank you," he whispered and closed his eyes.  
  
  
  
Emma sat and watched Steve sleep. Lost in thoughts of her own as she tried to decide what to do. It was almost dawn by the time she had made up her mind. It took her a little while longer to get everything straight.  
  
Placing some water where Steve could easily reach it. She kissed him softly on the forehead. "Forgive me," she said quietly. Then without looking back she retrieved the car keys, cell phone and Steve's gun from the table and left the house. 


	14. CHAPTER14

Part 17 Hope and Despair.  
  
Jesse awoke slowly, opening bleary eyes on the world, it took him a moment to focus on his surroundings and realise that he was still in the hospital. The room was light and bright. He caught sight of the sun though the window. The clock on the wall said 11am.  
  
He looked up to see Mark smiling down at him.  
  
"Hi Jess, how are you feeling," Mark said. His voice sounded strained, concerned.  
  
"We're glad you're finally back with us." Amanda added with what sounded like forced cheerfulness from behind him. She leaned over so he could see her better. She was also smiling at him.  
  
Jesse tried to shift his position in the bed but gentle hands held him back. "Don't try to move yet". Mark said, "you've just come out of surgery."  
  
Jesse sensed that there was something wrong. There was something about the expressions on his friend's faces. They did not hold the smiles of genuine affection that Jesse expected to find there. They were both smiling but there was a sadness in their eyes that was incongruous with the upturn of their lips. It was more than just worry or concern and Jesse had seen it before, at least on Mark's face, but only when he had had to deliver bad news to a patient.  
  
Jesse answered Mark's question. "I guess I don't feel too bad a little groggy maybe," Then almost too afraid to ask because of what he saw, he added, "How did the operation go?"  
  
Mark sighed heavily, he seemed to be trying to figure out how to word his answer. "I'm sorry, Jess," he said quietly the strain still clearly showing.  
  
Amanda reached out and took Jesse's hand in hers.  
  
"There were complications during surgery. Dr. Michaelson did everything he could but I'm afraid that his attempts were unsuccessful," Mark continued. "I'm afraid that he," Mark paused momentarily before continuing hesitantly. "He couldn't save the arm Jess"  
  
The next words Mark spoke seemed to turn Jesse's blood to ice. "I'm afraid he had to amputate."  
  
Jesse turned to look down at his left arm and instead of the heavy bandaging that he expected to see there was nothing. He let out a half hysterical sob, ignoring the hands that tried to hold him down. He pushed himself up ignoring the pain. "No," he cried out. "No, he can't have."  
  
And then strong arms took hold of him. "Jesse wake up. It's all right." Mark's voice penetrated through the hysteria that gripped him. He opened his eyes, still frantic, his breathing rapid and shallow. He looked around the room which was still in semi darkness as the early wisps of dawn light filtered in. It took his scrambled senses several moments to register the difference in conditions and his brain a little while longer to process them in to coherent thought. It had been a nightmare. Thank God, it had been a nightmare.  
  
Jesse dropped back on to the pillows and looked across, reassured by the sight of his bandaged arm, even happy about the painful throb that told him it really was still there and then he turned to look up at a concerned Mark once more, but this time it was real.  
  
He attempted to bring his breathing under control as Mark stated. "It was just a nightmare Jess, everything's OK"  
  
Jesse smiled up at the old doctor. "I know Mark, thanks," he said, despite his best efforts his breathing was still too rapid and his heart racing. He took a deep breath.  
  
"Want to talk about it?" Mark asked, checking Jesse's IV line and adjusting his bandage slightly. "Whatever it was gave us both quite a fright."  
  
Mark pulled the chair he had been sitting on closer to the bed as Jesse considered the question. Part of him just wanted to push the dream to the back of his mind as he had earlier about the possibility of problems. Another part of him wanted to open up, to admit his fears, talking about it, he knew, would help.  
  
The internal argument lasted only a few seconds. Denial won. "No, it was nothing." he said dismissively. Then, attempting to change the subject he asked. "Have you been in that chair all night?"  
  
Mark sighed. He knew that deep down Jesse was afraid but was unable to admit it even to himself. He would also have been willing to bet that the nightmare that the young doctor had just experienced was directly related to that fear, but until Jesse was prepared to talk to him there was very little that he could do about it.  
  
"Yes," wearily he answered Jesse's question, rubbing his neck as he did so.  
  
"Have you managed to get any sleep?"  
  
Mark looked up at the clock on the wall. It was just after 6.30 am and sunlight was starting to stream in through the windows. The last time he could remember looking at it was around 4. "I guess a couple of hours." He realised that he must have been asleep in the chair. It had only been Jesse's cry that had awoken him. No wonder his neck ached so much. He was definitely getting too old for this.  
  
Jesse looked him in the eye. "There was no need for you to do that," he said sincerely, "but thank you."  
  
Mark returned his gaze. "To tell you the truth, I didn't want to be alone," he paused, "I figured we could both use the company."  
  
Jesse finally had settled his breathing but he was still distinctly unsettled by his nightmare. Ignoring it was doing little to reduce his anxiety but still he could not bring himself to talk about it. Instead he changed the subject again asking Mark about who was covering for him in the ER.  
  
The two doctors chatted until about 7 when the nurse came in to change Jesse's IV and give him a wash. Mark decided he needed to clean up himself and so went to shower and change into the spare set of clothes that he kept in his office. By the time he arrived back, feeling a little more refreshed, Nathan had joined Jesse and was quietly questioning him about what he could remember of the day before.  
  
Nathan stood up when Mark entered the room. "Good morning Mark," he said with a half smile, the rest of his expression was that of someone getting caught with their hand in the cookie jar "Dr. Taylor said it would be OK if I talked to Jesse this morning as long as he felt up to it," he said, feeling the need to explain himself, in case Mark thought he was being inconsiderate.  
  
Mark smiled back recognising the young detective's discomfort, he had frequently seen the same expression from Steve when he had had to interrogate a patient and he wasn't sure if Mark would approve. "It's all right, Nathan," Mark said reassuringly. "I understand that you have a job to do and so does Jesse."  
  
Nathan briefly relaxed a little but then his expression turned apologetic. "I'm afraid that there's still no news on Steve."  
  
Mark looked down at the floor and momentarily closed his eyes as he controlled his expression. It was not bad news it was still no news, which was almost as hard to take. He looked back up again as concerned eyes met his. He could not think of a reply. So he just nodded his acknowledgment.  
  
Nathan wanted to say something else, something that would help but he was unable to think of anything but platitudes that he could offer to comfort the father standing in front of him. Instead he turned back to Jesse. "If you don't mind Jess, I've just got a few more questions?"  
  
"Go ahead," Jesse replied finally tearing his eyes away from Mark as Nathan sat down again. He was also unable to think of anything to say that would help Mark. Steve had now been missing for over 20 hours and the lack of news was clearly eating at his friend. "I'll tell you anything I can," he added.  
  
Nathan began his next question and at that point the phone rang. "You two carry on," Mark said. "It will be another diverted call for me."  
  
Mark approached the phone with the same trepidation as he had the day before. He hesitated slightly before resolutely moving his hand to pick up the receiver. "Hello, Dr. Mark Sloan," he said into it.  
  
"Dr. Sloan," A female voice that he did not recognise repeated his name. "I want you to listen to me very carefully and do exactly what I say."  
  
Mark's heart skipped a beat, instinct told him that the voice on the other end of the line knew something about Steve. "Who is this?" he asked. There was something about his tone that made both Jesse and Nathan stop their discussion and turn to watch him.  
  
"Who I am is unimportant," the voice said, "but if you want to see your son alive again you will follow my instructions to the letter. Now...."  
  
The confirmation that the person, as he suspected, knew something about Steve's whereabouts and condition proved too much for Mark, despite the implied threat in the caller's words he could not help but interrupt. "Steve!" he blurted out, "Is he alive. How is he? Please I have to know." The questions poured out with a pleading tone to them. Mark could not keep his emotions in check. "Tell me how my son is."  
  
For a moment there was silence from the other end of the line and Mark held his breath fearful that the caller would hang up. Then the voice spoke again. "Your son is alive but quite ill. That is why you must follow my instructions to the letter if you want to save him."  
  
On the word 'alive' Mark had let out the breath he had been holding as the relief washed over him. It took him a moment to process the rest of the sentence that the caller had spoken.  
  
"I'll do anything," he said, the pleading tone had been replaced by one of desperation.  
  
"Good, have you got a pen and something to write on?"  
  
Mark quickly pulled a pen out of his pocket and frantically searched round for some paper. Nathan who was watching realised what he was looking for and turned to a clean page in his notepad and handed it across.  
  
"OK," Mark said, cradling the phone under his ear so he could hold the pad and write. "Go ahead."  
  
The voice on the other end of the phone began to reel off a list of medical supplies, that Mark quickly realised were everything you would need to treat an infected gunshot wound. One or two of the requested antibiotics were referred to by names that Mark hadn't heard in more than twenty years. Whoever this was had medical knowledge but it was not recent. When the list was finished. The caller gave a location to bring the supplies to, a specific ATM machine in a large shopping mall  
  
"Be there in exactly one hour," the caller said. "I can't afford to wait." There was a momentary pause before the caller added "and come alone. If you are late or I see anyone with you then I will leave and you know what that will mean for your son?"  
  
"Don't worry," Mark replied, "I'll be there."  
  
"Alone?" The caller repeated  
  
"I'll be alone," Mark confirmed.  
  
"Then I will see you in one hour." The caller stated and the line went dead.  
  
Mark was left standing staring at the list in front of him momentarily stunned by the change of circumstance.  
  
"Mark," Nathan said, "Who was that?"  
  
It was enough to break Mark's stupor, He looked across at Nathan and Jesse. "I have to go," he stated, tearing the pages out of Nathan's notebook and handing it back.  
  
"Go where?" Jesse asked. "Who was that? What did they stay about Steve?' He partially knew the answers to his questions from the half of the conversation that he and Nathan had heard but needed the details filling in.  
  
Mark ignored the questions as at that moment Amanda entered. "Amanda I need to borrow your car," he stated bluntly.  
  
Taken aback by the abruptness of her greeting Amanda none the less readily agreed to the request. "Of course, Mark but what.."  
  
"Don't ask any questions, I haven't got time for answers," Mark interrupted. He knew that he would be hard pushed to meet his deadline and did not want to risk the person who had called him keeping to their threat and not waiting. His mind was already racing as he worked out where he could acquire all of the supplies he needed. "Meet me by the entrance in twenty minutes.  
  
Amanda knew that Mark would only behave like this if he had good reason. "All right." she replied, still a little stunned.  
  
"Mark what's going on?" Jesse tried again to get his friend to answer but Mark was already heading for the door, his mind elsewhere.  
  
Nathan realised that Mark was too preoccupied to talk but he also knew that he couldn't let him leave without getting some answers. If Mark had heard something about Steve then he needed to know. He moved to block the doctor's path.  
  
"Mark!" He said sharply attempting to penetrate through the preoccupation. "You can't just run off like this."  
  
Mark stopped and looked into the young detectives eyes. "I don't have the time..."  
  
"For what? Who was that?" Nathan sensed the urgency in Mark. "Tell us what's happening. We may be able to help."  
  
Mark looked round at the expectant faces of his friends. He at least owed them an explanation. He glanced down at his watch, this would have to be fast. "OK, the person on the other end of the line said Steve was still alive but they need medical supplies to keep him that way. I've got one hour to get together what they need and drop them off."  
  
Nathan pulled out his cell phone. "Give me the location and I'll have the place surrounded long before then. We'll get Steve back and capture whoever it is.." Nathan had already begun punching in the station number.  
  
Mark grabbed his hand stopping him from finishing dialing. "No, we can't risk it. They've arranged to meet in a crowded shopping mall. There's no way we could spot them and every chance that your people would be spotted, and, if Steve is as bad as this list of supplies suggests..." he let the thought hang. "I simply can't risk it. They want me to come alone and that is what I intend to do."  
  
"Then at least let me come along as back up." Nathan said. "I promise that I won't bring anyone else in on this." He paused searching Mark's expression. "There have already been enough people hurt. Just let me watch your back. I promise they won't spot me."  
  
Mark wanted to say no, to say that any risk was too great but he did not have time to argue. He needed to get moving if he stood any chance of meeting the deadline. "OK but stay out of sight. I'll meet you downstairs with Amanda." And with that he hurried out of the room.  
  
Amanda sat down in the chair next to Jesse's bed as Nathan turned back to face them. Nathan still held his cell phone in his hand. He looked down at it and for a moment considered procedure which dictated that he should call this in. Then he tossed it to Amanda. "If anyone asks you found it in here. I must have left it when I interviewed Jesse," Nathan said. At Amanda's puzzled look he continued. "I may have to explain why I didn't call for back up. If I don't have my phone..."  
  
"...you won't get chance to call because you'll be too busy following Mark." Amanda completed for him.  
  
"Yes, terrible time for the radio in my car to develop a fault." Nathan smiled. Jesse and Amanda smiled back, both grateful for what the young detective was doing to help their friends.  
  
  
  
Twenty minutes later, true to his word Mark met Amanda and Nathan in the lobby. He held out his hand to take the keys from her.  
  
"You know, maybe I should come too," she said. "There may be something I can do to help."  
  
"No Amanda," Mark replied quickly. "It's enough of a risk taking Nathan, besides," his next words quelled any further protest. "Jesse needs you here. He's more worried about this surgery than he's letting on. I just wish I could stay and help. You need to be there for him"  
  
Amanda nodded "OK, but you be careful," and she handed over her keys.  
  
Mark picked up the heavy medical holdall and headed out through the main entrance with Nathan following closely. Neither man noticed the eyes that watched them cross the car park nor the vehicle that pulled out of the lot behind them, following at a distance, just out of sight.  
  
  
  
Jesse sat back on the bed, alone for the first time in twelve hours. He stared up at the clock on the wall and watched fascinated at how slowly the second hand seemed to move. The longer he sat and watched the more time seemed to drag. His surgery was scheduled for 10.30, still over two hours away!  
  
He was worried about Steve and now Mark, who knew what danger the old doctor was putting himself in, but that was not why the time was seeming to drag. Every time he closed his eyes he was haunted by the images from his nightmare. The pained expressions on his friend's faces, the finality of Mark's pronouncement. He could not escape the deep feeling of foreboding he had, nor the fear that he would never return to full health, that something would go wrong with the surgery.  
  
He tried to ignore the fear as he had done the night before, to push away the negative thoughts but this time they would not go. He stared at the hand on the clock as it continued it's slow trail round.  
  
  
  
For Mark time was moving altogether too quickly. He cursed each time he was held up by traffic at a junction and prayed that the freeway would be clear. Any hold up and he would be late and the consequences of that were unthinkable. He pressed his foot slightly harder on the gas peddle and switched lanes to gain himself a few extra precious feet of tarmac as he crawled towards the on ramp.  
  
Twenty five agonising minutes later Mark pulled into the mall parking lot that the caller had specified. He found himself a space and was out of the car virtually before it had stopped. He hauled the hold all from the trunk and slammed it shut, then set off at a half run toward the building. He checked his watch, he had five minutes to make the meeting point.  
  
Nathan pulled into the lot seconds after Mark and deliberately headed down a different row. Parking his car he quickly headed for the only entrance, totally ignoring Mark until he was inside. He was a lot younger than the doctor and so made it into the building before him. Once inside he pretended to check the window of one of the shops until Mark had passed him. He then waited before he moved off. Taking care to just keep the old doctor in sight.  
  
  
  
Emma had not wasted any of the time since she had left Steve. The first thing she had done was to completely change her appearance. A blond wig hid her brown hair and glasses shaded her eyes. She wore black trousers and a nondescript dark grey top, along with track shoes in case she had to leave in a hurry.  
  
She had chosen her meeting point carefully. If there was anything that Emma had become intimately acquainted with during her time in LA it was the shopping Malls. There was a coffee shop opposite the ATM machine, from which she could keep watch and more than one exit from the mall within yards of each other. If she saw anything suspicious she could just walk out and no one would ever know she had been there. There were far too many people, most of them women, for anyone to notice her, even if they were looking for her.  
  
She sat and stirred her coffee nervously, trying to resist the temptation to check her watch again, she did not want to draw attention to herself.  
  
  
  
Mark strode purposefully through the melee of mid morning shoppers. His mind focused on a single goal. He simply had to reach the meeting point on time. He had long since given up considering how he felt. His anxiety levels as he neared his destination, he knew would be off the scale. His heart was beating faster than it should have been and the progressive contraction of the muscles in his stomach and abdomen felt more like birds flapping around than butterflies. He switched the heavy bag on to the opposite shoulder as he caught sight of the rendezvous point. He quickened his pace.  
  
  
  
Nathan almost lost Mark in the crowds twice but he did not dare speed up too much. Mark had been right about one thing. Any overt police presence would have been too easy to pick out even in the bustling crowds of shoppers. Instead Nathan relied upon his brief sitings of the doctor to keep track of him. When Mark reached the meeting point and stopped Nathan carried on past him to a coffee shop opposite where he proceeded to order from the counter keeping Mark in sight in his peripheral vision.  
  
  
  
Emma did not notice the young detective walk straight past her. Her attention was focused on the distinguished white haired gentleman who stood nervously next to the ATM machine. He had placed a large holdall on the floor. She recognised him as Steve's father straight away. His picture had been in the paper several times during the time she had been in LA and she had always read the articles with interest since they usually also involved Steve  
  
She watched him for a couple of minutes as he just stood checking his watch, until she was convinced that he was alone. Then she stood and placed her hand in her pocket and walked out of the shop taking a very indirect line she ended up approaching from behind.  
  
"Dr. Sloan," she said just loud enough to be heard over the noise of the crowds of shoppers.  
  
Mark was so on edge he almost jumped at the sound of his name and turned quickly to look at the woman who had spoken. He did not get chance to look at her face, instead his gaze was transfixed by the sight of the gun which she held, steadily pointed at his chest.  
  
"There's no need for that," he said quietly. "I'm only concerned about my son, I won't try anything." Finally able to break his eyes away from the weapon, he looked up into her face. "Please tell me how he is?"  
  
"I'll do better than that," Emma replied.  
  
  
  
Nathan turned back from the counter. He had been briefly distracted by paying for his drink and so was surprised to see that Mark had company. He cursed himself for trying too hard to blend in, he had expected the wait to be longer. Then he spotted the glint of metal and swore softly to himself. The woman had a gun pointing directly at the doctor.  
  
Putting his cup down on the nearest table he moved round to the woman's blind side and began to reach for his own weapon.  
  
  
  
The events of the next few seconds took everyone by surprise. The gunshot cracked across the crowded mall like a giant thunderclap. The plate glass window which it hit shattered and fell like a cascading waterfall raining shards of glass on anyone unlucky enough to be standing nearby. Mark and Emma both turned to look not at the shattering glass but at the direction it had come from. They had both felt not heard the burning trail that it left as it passed between them.  
  
Nathan briefly thought that the woman had fired on Mark, but his training told him that the direction was wrong. He turned to look at the two Asians one of whom still held his smoking gun aimed at where Mark and Emma stood.  
  
Emma had the gun firmly in her grip as she turned. Almost instinctively she aimed and fired in a single movement at this latest source of danger. More by luck than skill, the bullet found its mark and the man who moments earlier had fired at them, dropped to the ground.  
  
At that moment all hell broke lose. The crowd of shoppers, gripped by panic at the gunfire in an enclosed space, began to react. Some dropped to the floor, others began to run in no particular direction, One or two just stood and began to scream hysterically. In the pandemonium of confused bodies, Nathan lost track of both Mark and the woman and the two shooters. He had only a split second to make up his mind which direction to go.  
  
Deciding that the Asians posed the biggest threat to the safety of the public he headed in the direction he had last seen them. Pushing his way through uncooperative panicked bodies. He finally reached their position. There was only one man there. Emma's bullet had struck him in the left side and he was in no condition to put up a fight. Nathan quickly found and retrieved the gun he had dropped as Mall security descended on his position.  
  
Nathan looked around for signs of the shooter's companion but he was nowhere to be seen. It was then that he caught sight of Mark and Emma disappearing down the stairs towards one of the mall's many parking lots, Emma still pointing a gun at Mark's back.  
  
He did not have time to react. He pulled out his badge and showed it to the approaching guards. "Call 911 and get the paramedics down here and keep an eye on him," he said, handing over the weapon he had taken from the gunman. Then he set off at a run towards the place he had last seen Mark.  
  
By the time he made it to the parking lot. Mark was nowhere to be seen. For the third time in less than ten minutes Nathan let an expletive past his lips. Damn what was he going to tell Jesse and Amanda? Come to that what was he going to tell his captain?  
  
  
  
Meanwhile oblivious to the drama that was unfolding across town Amanda had returned to the Path lab. She had decided that the only way she could relieve the tension as she waited for news was to try to get some work done. She had barely got started on the autopsy which was next on her schedule, when there was a knock on the door.  
  
Dr. Bill Taylor put his head around the door. "Dr. Bentley," he said. "Do you mind if I come in."  
  
Amanda sighed ant turned off the tape she had been recording. She pulled the sheet back over the body and smiled at her colleague. "By all means," she gestured for him to enter the room. "What can I do for you?"  
  
"No offense but I was really looking for Dr. Sloan. Do you happen to know where he is?"  
  
"I'm afraid he's had to leave the hospital," Amanda replied. "He should be back but it could be a couple of hours."  
  
"Oh," Dr. Taylor took a moment to digest the information and decide what to do. "In that case I think I need your help." He paused to look her in the eye. "It's about Doctor Travis. He's refused to sign the consent forms. He's adamant that he does not want any further surgery regardless of the consequences"  
  
  
  
  
  
Author's note: Apologies to any Jesse fans if you found the opening to that chapter too shocking. I did consider a warning at the start but that would make it loose dramatic effect. Hope you are all still enjoying this. 


	15. CHAPTER15

Part 18 Overture to Operations.  
  
Baker looked at his boss with an expression of shock on his face. "You want me to do what sir?"  
  
If he had thought about it he might have tried to word his question with a little more respect for his superior's position but the rapid change in circumstances over the last twelve hours had taken away his ability to respond with anything other than incredulity. He was a lowly clerk, at best his position could be described as personal assistant. A role that he was good at yes, but it did not yet qualify him for anything more and yet his boss had not only brought him on a field assignment but was now effectively asking him to work under cover.  
  
"I want you to go in to the field office here in Malibu assigned as extra support on the Fielding case and keep your eyes and ears open about what is happening. I want you to report everything directly back to me." Collins explained again patiently. He watched the young man, whose expression showed that he was about to protest again so he held up his hand to stay the protest and continued, "Look I've been through all of the reports and I'm sure that we're not being told everything. That's why we're down here."  
  
"Then why don't you just..." Baker began  
  
Collins interrupted him. "Just walk in there and demand to know what is going on?"  
  
Baker nodded.  
  
"Because reading the reports has convinced me that Carlson can't have been working alone. He had to have an accomplice and I suspect that could be one of the agents working on the case. If I just walk in there and use my position to demand answers, whoever it is could just stop their activities and we'll be left with nothing." He watched as the young agent absorbed this information. "I'm willing to bet that whoever it is is still trying to get their hands on the disc and when they do we'll be waiting."  
  
"But why me?" Baker asked.  
  
"Three reasons," Collins answered. "First you're my assistant, since this is an important case, it won't strike anyone as too unusual that I've sent you down here as a field liaison for me.. Second, forgive me for this, but a simple background check will confirm to anyone that you are too green to be up to anything devious, so they won't feel threatened by you and thirdly," he paused to ensure that he had eye contact. "I trust you, and given the nature of this case that's not a quality to be underestimated." He stared his subordinate directly in the eye. "So will you do it?"  
  
Baker thought very briefly about what he was being asked to do before he replied. "Yes sir."  
  
Mark drove the car out of the car park and on to the road. His pulse was still racing and the adrenaline coursing through his system allowed him to think with a clarity that belied his tiredness. He risked a glance across at the woman sitting next to him. She still held the gun pointed at him. She gripped it so tightly that her knuckles were white and her hand shook slightly from the tension or perhaps from the shock of the events of the last few minutes. He risked a second look up at her face. It was undoubtedly the same woman that Steve had introduced him to the day before at the hospital. She looked now as she had then, pale and anxious, her lips drawn in a thin tight line.  
  
Steve had introduced her as a friend so Mark decided, despite the gun, to risk some conversation. "If you are taking me to help my son. You don't need that," he said nodding his head slightly in the direction of the weapon. ' Emma looked over at him. She was still stunned by the events in the mall, trying to come to terms with having shot someone. She knew that Dr. Sloan had spoken to her but had not heard what he had said. "Pardon?" She asked.  
  
Mark was unsure whether she had genuinely not heard him or was not reacting badly to his comment. He had no choice however but to try again. "I said that if you are taking me to see my son there is no need for the gun. I won't do anything to risk Steve's life." He replied keeping his voice as calm as he could manage.  
  
Emma looked down at the gun in her hand and realised that she was still pointing it at Steve's father. She was gripping it so tightly that it took a conscious effort of will to relax her hand. "I'm sorry Dr. Sloan," she said apologetically. "I know that I don't need it. Steve told me that you would come if I just asked for your help."  
  
Mark was completely taken aback by her reaction and her comment. "Then why.." he began but did not know how to phrase the rest of his question.  
  
Emma did not need any more. "Steve said that if you came and helped him then you would get into trouble, that you could lose your medical license," she explained "He wouldn't let me call you for help. So I thought that if it looked like you were forced to come then the only person in trouble would be me and considering what I'm facing," She paused as a melancholy look briefly crossed her face. She shook it off, repressing the thoughts that accompanied it. "Well, I don't think it could get much worse for me."  
  
Mark considered her comment. He was still trying to come to terms with Emma's sudden change from hostage taker to apologetic passenger. "You're saying Steve wouldn't call me for help because he didn't want me to lose my medical license?" Mark asked incredulously. Surely Steve couldn't possibly think that a bit of paper was more important to him than his well being.  
  
Emma heard the disbelief in Mark's tone. "Not just that," she replied quickly. "You saw what just happened at the mall. He didn't want to get you involved. He was worried that you might get hurt." She paused before adding quietly. "Like his friend Dr. Travis." She hesitated again afraid of the answer to the next question but she had to ask. "How is he, Dr. Travis?"  
  
"He's recovering at the hospital." Mark replied, noting the tinge of genuine concern from the woman who was asking. His mind was certainly having to work quickly to keep up with his changing perceptions.  
  
Emma sighed with relief. "Good I'm glad. He was good to me and all I brought him was trouble."  
  
Despite the many other questions Mark had for the woman seated next to him there was one concern that overrode all others. "How is my son?" he asked.  
  
Emma was quiet for a few moments before she replied, this only served to heighten Mark's concern. Her answer when it came did little to make him feel better . "Not good," she said and proceeded to describe Steve's condition when she had left him.  
  
Mark had by now reached the freeway. "How long will it take us to get there?" He asked, the words almost catching in his throat as he fought to control the emotions that threatened to take away his ability to function. From what Emma had told him there was the possibility that they would be too late.  
  
Emma told the doctor where they were going. He recognised the location instantly from her description and moved out into the traffic hitting the gas peddle to accelerate up to the speed limit.  
  
"I'm sorry Dr. Sloan," Emma said remorsefully. "I shouldn't have listened to Steve, I should have come for you earlier."  
  
Mark kept his eyes on the traffic. "It will take us around twenty minutes to get to the cabin." He said keeping his tone neutral. "I think you'd better use that time to explain to me just exactly what Steve has got himself involved in and why he's put his life at risk to help you?" It was information that he needed to know and besides, he needed to keep his mind occupied until he reached Steve. There was no use in worrying about what might be happening. He could do nothing about it until he got there.  
  
Emma took a deep breath and began to repeat the story that she had told Steve and relate what had happened since she called him.  
  
  
  
"Don't," Jesse said as Amanda entered the room and moved to his bedside. He could not bring himself to look at her. "Don't say it," he continued, staring over at the window on the opposite side of the room. "I don't want to discuss it." His tone was sullen, resigned.  
  
Amanda sat down next to him and said nothing.  
  
Jesse was disconcerted by her silence. He had expected a speech from her, perhaps an argument. He had not expected her to do what he asked and remain quiet. Still refusing to look at her, he could not stop himself from filling the silence with a comment that required an answer. "It won't do any good you know?"  
  
"What won't?" Amanda obliged with a reply.  
  
"Trying to talk me into it." Jesse continued.  
  
"I wasn't." Amanda stated simply.  
  
"Why not?" Jesse asked, of all the positions he had expected Amanda to adopt this was not one of them.  
  
"Because you told me you didn't want to talk about it." Amanda replied. "I just came down to let you know that I'm here for you. Whatever happens."  
  
Jesse finally turned to look at her. "So you don't think I need to have this operation?"  
  
Amanda took his hand in hers and squeezed it tightly. "Jess, you know as well as I do that you need this operation if you want to regain full function in that hand again. You also know that if you don't have it you will probably never go back to your job in the ER." Amanda kept her voice calm and quiet but her eyes filled with moisture as she looked into those of her friend and saw only fear and pain. "I don't know why you've made the decision that you have but you know better than anyone the reasons for surgery and the risks involved. I haven't come to persuade you, just to listen if you need me."  
  
Amanda had chosen the right strategy. Jesse had been ready to defend himself in an argument and prepared to ignore a speech. He had made up his mind about what he was going to do and nothing was going to change it, but Amanda offered neither. Instead, she was a sounding board for his own internal argument.  
  
He returned her grip and leaned his head back against the pillows staring across at the far wall. "I'm so scared," he admitted, "Every time I close my eyes I have this nightmare."  
  
He swallowed hard, tears welled up in his eyes and he briefly squeezed them shut as he recalled once more the painful visions, attempting to control his reactions enough so that he could talk about it.  
  
When he spoke again each word was quiet and deliberate. "You and Mark are waiting for me to wake up from the operation to tell me that it has gone wrong," He hesitated before continuing, "they can't save my arm. I turn and look and it's not..." The last words choked off as he found himself unable to complete the description. He turned to look at Amanda. "I don't think I could live with that."  
  
Amanda chose her words carefully, "and can you live with the consequences of not having the surgery?"  
  
Jesse thought about it. Considered properly for the first time never being able to work in the ER again, having to change his life and career, living with a permanent disability. Up until that point all he had been able to think about was what might go wrong, but the risk of his nightmare becoming reality was actually relatively small, whereas the consequences of not having the surgery were fairly definite. Putting it off would not decrease the risk, it would only lessen the chance of a successful recovery.  
  
Whilst he thought he had defocused his eyes again, looking in the direction of the bed without really seeing it. There were several minutes of silence while Jesse reconsidered his position. It was an argument he had had with himself several times that day, only this time he was considering more than just the irrational thoughts driven by fear, eventually he answered her question. "No," he replied quietly, "I don't think I could live with that either, not when I know that there's a chance I can do something about it." He looked up into the face of his friend "I have to have the surgery don't I?" he asked.  
  
"Only you can answer that." Amanda replied allowing him to keep the initiative.  
  
Jesse drew in a deep breath, slightly dazed by how quickly Amanda had managed to turn his ideas round without seeming to try. "You'd better get Dr. Taylor then before I change my mind."  
  
Amanda smiled at him and stood up. "OK I won't be long."  
  
As she reached the door Jesse called her back "Amanda."  
  
She turned "Yes?"  
  
"Remind me never to play chess against you."  
  
Amanda smiled. "You're welcome," she returned the unspoken thank you. It was there in his eyes even if he had hidden it behind a characteristic jibe.  
  
  
  
Nathan drove to community general trying to organise the events of the last couple of hours in his head, trying to decide if he should have done things differently. If he had called for backup as procedure dictated then Mark would not now be missing. Chances were that they would also have had both of the Asian gunmen in custody and the Fielding woman too, and he would not be in so much trouble with his superiors, but he had chosen not too and had followed Mark instead, and now Mark was missing, only the injured gunmen had been captured and there was a major mess and media circus at one of LA's biggest shopping malls  
  
Still, there was no use beating himself up about it now. The events had happened and there was nothing he could do to change them. All he could do was face the consequences and, having cleared up at the scene, he was on his way to deal with one of those consequences now. He had to tell Jesse and Amanda that Mark had been taken at gunpoint. It was not going to be easy but he figured he owed it to them to tell them face to face, not over the phone.  
  
He was breaking procedure again. He should have reported straight back to the station to start the paperwork and follow up on the incident at the mall and have his inevitable interview with his superior. He shuddered at the thought of how captain Newman was going to react, especially since the NSA were breathing down their necks on this one, but all of that was going to have to wait.  
  
He pulled into the hospital car park and turned off the engine. He took a moment to compose himself and then headed in to the building.  
  
  
  
Dr. Taylor was standing by the nurses' station checking through patient charts when Amanda moved over to join him. He looked up and could tell by her expression that she had been successful. "That didn't take long," he said "How did you manage it?"  
  
"Oh it's easy when you know just what not to say," she replied deliberately cryptic and smiled. At Dr. Taylor's questioning expression she added "Let's just say I helped Jesse to change his own mind about what he wanted. You'd better go before he has time to change it back again."  
  
Dr. Taylor picked up the clipboard and headed off for the room. "OK and thanks."  
  
Amanda watched him go and said a quiet prayer. She knew that she had done the right thing but until Jesse was in recovery and she had it confirmed that everything had gone well, she too would have to live with the fear that his nightmare may come true.  
  
  
  
Mark navigated the car up the last of the winding roads that led to the cabin. He couldn't remember most of the journey getting there. He had focused his mind as well as he could on what Emma was telling him but there were parts of it that he would have to ask her to repeat later. At least now he had some understanding of why Steve did not want to risk staying at the hospital and, with the actions of the NSA Agents, why he could not trust in police protection for him or for Emma.  
  
The closer he got to his destination, the closer he got to his son, the more difficult he found it to concentrate. All he could think about was Steve and the possibility that they might be too late to save him. After so many hours of worry and frustration, he did not seem to be able to focus on the hope that being so close and able to help should bring, only on the fear of failure and the despair that went with it.  
  
He pulled up outside the cabin and, forcing his tensed muscles to respond, he climbed quickly out of the car only vaguely aware of Emma doing the same. He grabbed the heavy medical bag from where he had thrown it on the back seat and rushed into the building.  
  
He opened the door and paused catching his breath as once more he was gripped by fear. What if he was too late?  
  
Time seemed to freeze as he regarded the still pale form of his son lying on the couch less than twenty feet from him. He could not move, did not want to approach in case his fear was confirmed. Momentarily paralysed all he could do was stand and stare.  
  
The stillness of the tableau before him was broken by a movement in his peripheral vision as Emma came through the door behind him. It was enough to prompt him into some sort of motion. He stepped forward, still in a dazed dream like state, fear controlling his actions. He reached the side of the couch, dropped the bag and fell to his knees next to Steve, reaching forward but not quite daring to touch him as tears formed in his eyes.  
  
He watched the slight rise and fall of Steve's chest and heard the laboured rasp of his breathing although it was barely audible over his own thundering heartbeat. He said a prayer of thanks. They weren't too late, Steve was still alive. There was still a chance, thank God!  
  
Mark closed his eyes as he fought back the tears of relief and then opened them again to look down at his son once more, his hand still hovering, still unable to touch him in case it was an illusion that would disappear.  
  
Emotion had robbed him of all of his professional competence as a doctor, had robbed him of his intellect and his ability to act in a crisis. At that moment he was just a father feeling for a son in pain, terrified that he might lose him.  
  
The sight of his son's condition had given him every reason to use his medical knowledge and act quickly whilst simultaneously taking away his ability to do so.  
  
It was Emma again who broke through to him "Dr. Sloan," she said sharply, when she got no response she tried again. "Dr. Sloan I need your help, please."  
  
Mark slowly turned his head to look at her. She had opened up the bag and proceeded to take out the equipment inside. Mark had brought one of the paramedic bags that contained the latest design of monitoring device. There were advantages to being head of internal medicine when you needed something.  
  
"It's been a long time," Emma said holding out the monitor, "and they didn't have anything like this in my day." She handed the device to Mark. "You'll have to show me."  
  
Mark turned back to Steve and began to attach the sensors to his hand, explaining his actions as he did so. Working in a teaching hospital he frequently had to help students and explain procedures to them. The normalcy of what he was now doing was enough to snap him out of his stupor. Professional detachment and with it competence returned as Steve became a patient.  
  
He turned the device on and instantly got a readout of Steve's temperature- too high, heart rate- rapid and irregular, and blood pressure- dangerously low.  
  
Emma was already inserting an IV line into the back of his hand as Mark first checked Steve's airway and then placed an oxygen mask over his face. He and Emma worked together as a team for the next ten minutes. He gave instructions to her as he worked, stopping to explain anything she did not understand as they tried to stabilise Steve's condition. Mark maintained his focus by sheer will, forcibly maintaining the emotional detachment he needed to work.  
  
Finally the lines of pain etched on Steve's features began to relax as the drugs began to take effect. Steve's breathing settled as his blood oxygen level came back up and his blood pressure slowly rose. Mark checked the monitors and relaxed slightly. Steve was no longer in immediate danger.  
  
He sat back onto the coffee table by his son's side, moving the monitor to where he could see it clearly. He needed to wait now and allow Steve's vital signs to improve further before he would risk moving him.  
  
Emma returned from the kitchen with some iced water and he watched as she used it to gently cool the skin on Steve's face. There was a tender affection there, clear in her expression, in her actions. Steve meant more to her than just a friend.  
  
"You were once medically trained?" he asked her needing to know more about this mysterious woman who had brought his son so close to dying.  
  
She nodded. "I was a nurse but it was a long time ago." Realising that the old doctor wanted to know more she continued. "Nearly thirty years in fact. I trained in England and then worked in Japan in one of the American military hospitals."  
  
Suddenly for Mark it all fell in to place, how Steve knew this woman and why he did not know anything about her.  
  
He knew that Steve had been transferred to a military hospital in Japan during his first tour of duty in Vietnam. He was recovering from shrapnel wounds in his neck and shoulder following a anti personnel mine explosion and spent eight weeks there before returning to finish his tour. Mark looked at the woman before him. Steve must have met her there.  
  
Of the many areas of their life that they shared, Steve's time in Vietnam was the one thing his son had never been willing or able to discuss with him. The only thing Mark knew was the deep and lasting effect it had had on his son's psyche. When he had returned that first time Mark had seen the change in his son, the loss of innocence and the deep unspoken grief that only the images of war could mark on a man's soul. It had, Mark knew, changed his son forever  
  
He had felt for him, his own experiences in serving as a doctor in Korea gave him an insight into what his son was going through, but despite that, Steve had shut him out, at the time and ever since it was the one taboo area of discussion between them. Mark occasionally commented on the pride he had at his son's distinguished record but beyond that the subject was closed.  
  
"So you met Steve.." Mark began  
  
"At the hospital," Emma confirmed still gently mopping Steve's brow. "He was one of my patients at first and then we became... that is we were..." She gazed affectionately at Steve hesitating in finishing the sentence, English propriety leaving her unable to say what she meant, that they were lovers, especially not to the man's father. "We were very close." She finally settled on.  
  
She looked up into the eyes of Steve's father and something in the expression made her want to confess more to him, to tell him something that she had never been able to tell Steve, something she had never fully admitted to herself. "I fell in love with your son Dr. Sloan. The first time I saw him over thirty years ago and I have been in love with him ever since, time and circumstance have kept us apart, my fault mostly." She looked down, "but however hard I try not to, I still love him."  
  
Mark recognised the confession for what it was and was unsure what to say. "I'm sorry, he didn't.. that is, I'm afraid he never talked about you."  
  
"I'm not surprised," she said smiling sardonically, "I hurt him very deeply." She looked up at Mark again. "When I met him I was already engaged. I didn't tell Steve about it until it was too late. Steve was in love with me too. He wanted to marry me, to bring me back to the states with him."  
  
Mark realised that what he was being told was deeply personal although he was curious he did not want to pry into his son's past. "You don't have to explain to me...."  
  
"Yes I do Dr. Sloan." She interrupted. "You asked me in the car why your son risked his life for me. I'm not quite sure why but at least I can tell you my side." She looked across at him and he nodded slightly, she took this as a signal to continue. "I left it until the very last day of his leave to tell him. I was young and scared of change and it had all moved too quickly for me, so I had chosen to return to England, to my fiancee, to take the easiest path."  
  
Mark shifted his position, still keeping a watchful eye on both Steve and the monitor.  
  
"Have you ever made a decision that you have truly regretted Dr. Sloan?" Emma asked  
  
Mark smiled, looking up at her. "Probably several hundred in my time."  
  
"Well I made one that day when I walked away, and a part of me has regretted it every day since." She sighed and looked back down at Steve. "I hurt him then and I finally turn up in his life again and in one day I do this to him."  
  
Mark recognised the self recrimination. "No," he said quietly. "I can't comment on what you did in the past but you did not do this to him. His injuries were all inflicted by other people. You are as much a victim in this as anyone."  
  
Emma started to protest "But.."  
  
Mark stopped her. "Come on, Steve's stable enough for me to take a look at the bullet wound. I have to do something about it before any infection gets worse."  
  
Mark's comment had the desired effect and returned her thoughts to the practical. She nodded. "The bullet needs to come out. It may be a long time since I've done this sort of thing but I saw enough in my time." She indicated the dining table behind the couch. "I set this up so you could work properly."  
  
For the first time Mark noticed that the table had been draped in clean sheets and that two smaller tables also draped in sheets had been placed next to it. Along with every non fixed lamp and lighting source in the house. Everything he would need to operate. He looked back at Steve and considered what he needed to do. The bullet needed removing and getting Steve to hospital was not an option. The only other person he could trust to do this without involving the authorities and possibly getting them all killed would have been Jesse, but that was also not an option.  
  
So he had no choice, he would have to operate on Steve. At that moment he realised that Emma had spoken to him and he had missed it. "I'm sorry?" he asked  
  
"I said do you think you'll be able to manage to remove the bullet?"  
  
Had it been anyone else on the planet the answer to Emma's question would have been a straight yes, but this was Steve. He remembered how he had reacted just a few minutes ago to the sight of his son in pain. Could he trust himself to control his emotions so that he could treat his son? The answer came simply enough. He would have to. "Yes," he finally said, "but I will need your help."  
  
The first task was to get Steve over to the table with as little trauma as possible. It was difficult but between them they managed to lift him across. It took a few minutes more for Mark to be happy that he had settled after the move.  
  
Then, with Emma's help Mark removed the dressing and let out an involuntary gasp at the inflamed ragged hole in Steve's shoulder. Once more emotion threatened to take hold as he felt for the pain his son must have been in, but he repressed it. Turning to arrange the things he would need whilst he refocused his mind.  
  
He applied a local anaesthetic and antibiotics directly to the wound and gave Emma instructions to make sure that Steve did not move, working with only a local anaesthetic and an unconscious patient it was a real danger and could have disastrous consequences. He then tore open the sealed pouch that contained the scalpel. He took it out and held it, realising that his hand was shaking. Taking a deep breath to calm himself he slowly brought the scalpel down.  
  
  
  
Amanda remained with Jesse until the medication had taken effect. She could tell that he was still afraid of what might happen and so she stayed with him attempting to reassure him with her presence until he was asleep. Then she walked down with him until he was wheeled into the OR still unwilling to leave his side.  
  
She too was afraid for him and wished that Mark were there. Right now she needed some comfort herself..  
  
She turned to walk away, deciding to return to work until there was some news, when she saw Nathan approaching from the end of the corridor. She smiled and hurried towards him opening her mouth to issue a greeting, but the words died on her lips as she saw the expression on his face and knew in that instant that there was something terribly wrong. 


	16. CHAPTER16

Part 19 Consequences.  
  
Amanda walked slowly back into Jesse's now empty room and sat down heavily on the bed. She couldn't remember ever feeling so alone.  
  
Her mother was at home with her two wonderful sons, all of whom she knew loved her but she was part of their support network not the other way round. Whenever she had needed someone to talk to or confide in, to lean on in a crisis, it was one of her friends that she usually turned to, sometimes Steve or Jesse but mostly Mark. These were the steadying influences in her life and closer to her than most people's families, and now, not one or two but all three of them were in crisis. She had no one to turn to, was unsure of how she would cope, and so she felt alone.  
  
Nathan had told her of the events at the shopping Mall and she had listened in shocked silence as he explained how Mark had been taken.  
  
She had felt a momentary surge of anger at Mark for leaving her when she needed him and then guilt at the irrationality of the thought, he had not gone by choice, then she had stood in silence unable to voice her thoughts, whilst Nathan tried to reassure her that everything possible would be done to find both Steve and Mark.  
  
She could see in Nathan's eyes the guilt, knew from his contrite tone that he felt responsible for Mark's predicament but could not bring herself to say anything to him other than a polite, 'thank you for letting me know.' She had turned and walked away in a dazed state and ended up here in Jesse's room. She wasn't entirely sure why.  
  
She was still trying to reconcile the days events when she became aware that the phone was ringing. another diverted call for Mark. She picked up the receiver. "Hello, Dr. Bentley speaking."  
  
There was a momentary pause before the voice on the other end replied slightly hesitantly. "Oh.... er.... hello Amanda, it's Alison, I was hoping to speak to Dr. Sloan. He said he'd ring me if there was any news on Steve and I suppose because he hasn't that means there isn't." Alison continued, lack of sleep combined with concern for Steve seemed to have temporarily derailed her thought processes. "But I was hoping that maybe you'd heard something and just hadn't got around to ringing me.... Not that I don't trust you to ring if something happened." She was well aware that she was now rambling instead of asking a direct question, and probably sounded like a complete idiot. "But I'm probably fairly low on your list of priorities. So I thought that I would ring you on the off chance that there was some news any news then..." She finally managed to stop herself and word a coherent question. "I'm sorry Amanda, I'm probably not making much sense, If I could speak to Mark, Is he there?"  
  
Amanda took a deep breath. She had met Alison on many occasions in Steve's company over the last few weeks and had watched their relationship grow closer. It was a long time since she had seen Steve so settled and happy in a relationship and she had high hopes for the future. So she had taken the time to get to know Alison and everything she knew about her so far she liked.  
  
Hearing the concern in Alison's tone as she asked the question gave Amanda a sense of a kindred spirit, someone who sounded as lost and lonely as she felt, and now it was her responsibility to deliver more bad news. She took a deep breath to steel herself for the task. "No I'm afraid he isn't and there has been a development you should know about...."  
  
  
  
Agent Baker's reception at the Malibu field office had been pretty much as he had expected. They had stopped short of open hostility towards him but all three of the field agents had exchanged looks that said, "this is all we need an idiot rookie watching our every move and reporting it back!'  
  
Baker however, despite his lack of experience had many positive attributes not least of which was the ability to make himself unthreatening and helpful in every way. By the time mid morning came around he had assisted with file organisation, located several requested reports, typed up half a dozen sets of notes and even found time to make the coffee. He knew that he could best make the observations that Collins wanted if he behaved just like a PA to the three agents and tried to make them forget whose office he came from.  
  
He was just attempting to engage Steele in conversation when the pandemonium struck. All three agents pagers went off simultaneously and the phones started ringing. Baker didn't manage to catch much of what was happening, something about a shooting in a shopping Mall, before he was left alone in a room that had seen five minutes of frantic activity, bemused he watched the doors swing closed and the papers settle back into piles from the draught the hurried exits had invoked. This he decided would be a good opportunity to make his preliminary report to his superior.  
  
  
  
Mark would not like to try to count the number of operations that he had been involved in. In fact he probably couldn't even estimate how many gunshots that he had dealt with in his many years as a surgeon and yet his hand shook now with all the trepidation of an intern carrying out his first ever surgical procedure.  
  
Compassion, caring and a good bedside manner were all aspects of the role of a surgeon but a truly good surgeon could switch those off to concentrate on the task in hand. Everyone, however, had their limits and maintaining his focus under the circumstances was at the edge of Mark's mental endurance. Still as he had already repeated to himself , there was no choice.  
  
His hand hovered over the wound for several seconds, but it seemed like much longer, before he was able to cut into his son's flesh. Once again he had resorted to the developed sense of clinical detachment needed by anyone who became a doctor, in order to focus their minds on the skills needed rather than the person.  
  
As he worked Mark tried to ignore the challenging conditions. Apart from those few occasions when he had had to improvise in emergency situations, his recent experiences usually involved him working in the best of operating theatres, with a highly trained staff, but here the light was barely good enough for him to see what he was doing despite having every light in the house concentrated on the small table and there was no suction to remove the excess blood only swabs. It was only the many years of experience and his intuitive senses that allowed him to work quickly and skillfully.  
  
Emma helped as much as she could but she was almost entirely occupied with ensuring Steve did not move.  
  
After about twenty minutes, Mark was ready to remove the bullet, he was relieved that things had been going so well. It was at this point that that almost changed. Steve let out a low moan and began to return to a form of fevered consciousness.  
  
Disoriented and unable to comprehend what was happening to him, all Steve could feel was the hands holding him down as he tried to shift his position on the table. On the fringes of consciousness only his instincts were operating and with no higher thought to temper his actions he began to fight against the unseen constraints.  
  
Mark barely pulled the scalpel clear before Steve's sudden jerk would have ripped his flesh apart. As he pulled the blade back violently from his son's shoulder, he could only consider the consequences of not moving quickly enough. His mind reeling as he considered the further injury that he would have been responsible for.  
  
Mark backed off from the table in shock, his flimsy hold on his emotional control temporarily lost and for a few moments he just stood and watched as Steve began to thrash about. Emma holding on to him and simultaneously trying to soothe and reassure him with her words.  
  
Emma quickly realised that she did not have the strength to hold him on her own, even in his weakened state he was much stronger than her and gripped by an irrational panic. Her words did not seem to be penetrating his fevered senses. She looked up at Mark, who stood staring at Steve, face deathly pale still holding the scalpel up high where he had pulled it as Steve started to move. She realised that he must have been shocked by the closeness he came to further injuring his son. She could only imagine how traumatic this must be for him, but she did not have time to consider his feelings. She still needed him, Steve needed him.  
  
"Dr. Sloan," she said with all the command in her voice that she could manage. "I need your help. Please," she continued imploringly. "He's going to hurt himself more."  
  
With effort Mark pulled himself back to the real world. For the third time since he had found his son, Emma had had to draw him back from the emotional bewilderment that threatened to engulf him. If he was going to help Steve recover then he would have to stop losing it like this. He needed to remain focused. What if Emma had not been there?  
  
He moved back quickly to help her. First restraining Steve and then helping her to soothe him.  
  
"Shhh son," he said gently. "Steve it's all right. Stop fighting everything's going to be all right" He repeated the phrases several times until finally his soft words and tone seemed to get through and Steve relaxed. Drifting back into unconsciousness.  
  
Mark waited until he was sure that Steve would not wake again and then took a moment to clear his mind. With a new found determination, he retrieved the scalpel and continued with the surgery. He would not, could not, let his emotional state put his son at further risk.  
  
Fortunately the movement had not caused too much damage and the rest of the operation passed without incident, once the bullet was out, Mark packed and dressed the wound. It could not be stitched until the infection had cleared. Finally satisfied that he had done all that he could, he set about the difficult task of returning Steve to the couch. Emma did her best to assist as they took care not to undo the good work they had done.  
  
Only when he was resting comfortably with a new antibiotic IV set up and the monitors reattached did Mark allow himself to breathe a sigh of relief. He looked down at his hands which were once again shaking and said a silent prayer that he would never have to do anything like that again. More thankful than ever that he had in the past always had support when Steve had been injured.  
  
He sank down heavily into a chair, mentally and physically exhausted and stared across at his son.  
  
Steve's colour had returned after the blood transfusion Mark had been able to give him and he was far more able to fight the infection than he had been an hour before, but the fever was a continuing concern. Mark knew that Steve was not out of danger until the fever broke and his temperature came down.  
  
Emma reentered from the kitchen with two steaming mugs of coffee. Mark had not even realised that she had gone. She handed him a cup and sat down on the edge of the coffee table.  
  
Mark took the cup gratefully, looking up from Steve only long enough to avoid dropping it. "Thanks," he muttered distractedly.  
  
"How is he?" She asked taking a sip from the cup  
  
"Hard to tell, "Mark confessed. "His system is having a hard time fighting the infection so it will be a few hours before we know either way." He swallowed and bit his bottom lip, "but if he doesn't start to show some signs of improvement soon, or if he gets any worse, then whatever the possible risks we'll have to get him to the hospital."  
  
"If I'd had my way then he never would have left in the first place." Emma stated sadly. She too had turned her gaze to Steve's unconscious form.  
  
Mark caught the self recrimination again. It was the same tone she had used earlier in the car when she had been explaining what had happened "Hey it's not your fault," he said. "Steve always did have a rather dismissive attitude to his own health." A small smile crossed his lips. "With a doctor as a father you would think that he would know better."  
  
Emma returned the smile. "Yes I know what you mean," she said turning to look back at the old doctor. He was still very pale and their were heavy black sacks forming under his eyes. Everything about his demeanor betrayed the bone weary tiredness that he felt. "Look Dr. Sloan you're exhausted why don't you get some rest. I'll keep an eye on Steve and let you know straight away if there is any change."  
  
Mark turned to look at her. "You look like you could use the rest yourself."  
  
"Yes but I'm not the one that Steve is going to need to be alert if there are any complications." She paused watching for his reaction. "Please, I'll wake you in a few hours or if there's any change and then I promise I'll get some rest myself."  
  
Mark considered her offer. She was right, there was nothing more that he could do for Steve at the moment, but he might need him later. He shifted position on the chair and felt the weary ache of muscles tensed for too long. Emotionally and physically the operation had drained what little resources he had left. Without rest soon he would be unable to function. "OK," he agreed reluctantly, "But any change at all..."  
  
"I'll wake you straight away."  
  
Mark stood slowly and headed for one of the bedrooms that led directly off the living room. He sank down, fully clothed onto the bed too exhausted to bother with the sheets and was asleep before his head had settled on the pillow.  
  
  
  
Baker stood in front of his superior, his usual nervousness at reporting to the formidable man in front of him was diminishing with every meeting as he began to realise that the intimidating and authoritative manner was merely a front. Collins was in fact a shrewd and intelligent man who used the bluster to keep people off guard so that he could assess them. It was almost certainly how he had risen to a high position in the intelligence community. There were those who rose through the organisation politically and those who did it on merit and Collins was undoubtedly an example of the latter.  
  
A growing trust between the two men as they were forced to work together in unusual circumstances was evident as Collins invited the younger man to sit, Baker delivered a succinct report of his first impressions of the people he had been asked to watch.  
  
"So out of the three who would you put your money on?" Collins' asked when Baker had finished.  
  
"Sir?" Baker replied quizzically not sure that he understood the question.  
  
"Assuming that one of them is a traitor, which one?"  
  
"I've only been with them for a morning." Baker started to protest.  
  
"I know," Collins returned evenly. "But what do your instincts tell you? Who would be capable of this sort of deception.?"  
  
Baker thought about it. "Well I wouldn't put it past any of them and from the reports they all had opportunity. They all followed up different leads across the city on Saturday afternoon, or say they did, and from talking to them I wouldn't rule any of them out."  
  
"Yes but if you had to make a judgment who would it be?" Collins repeated the question.  
  
Baker sighed it was clear that his boss was not going to let him generalise. He wanted a straight answer. "Dobbs," he said quietly. "He's close to retirement and bitter about his lack of promotion. He's got the least to lose and the most to gain."  
  
"OK," Collins looked thoughtful. "Then I'll follow that up. I'll check the timings on his reports and look for discrepancies. You just continue watching all of them. There has obviously been some sort of development so you'd better get back to the office and find out what's going on."  
  
"Yes sir," Baker replied succinctly and stood to leave, flattered that his boss trusted his instincts enough to act on them. He just hoped that that faith was not misplaced.  
  
"Oh and Baker," Collins stopped him just before he reached the door.  
  
"Yes sir?"  
  
"Don't take any chances. If one of those agents is really a rogue then they've been involved in at least two deaths already."  
  
"I'll be careful sir."  
  
  
  
Amanda had only two reactions to extreme stress. One was to shut down, sit and cry it out of her system, but this was rare, far more often she reacted by throwing herself into her work with a vigour that frightened most people when they saw it. Today she had done both. Alison's phone call had snapped her out of her melancholy and once she had hung up she had returned to the path lab, determined to use work to take her mind off everything.  
  
In the two hours she had been there she had completed almost a days worth of work, barely pausing for breath as she moved from one autopsy to the next and yet still managing to complete the work thoroughly and professionally.  
  
She was just finishing up on the latest of the reports when there was a knock on the door. "Yes," she snapped showing obvious annoyance at the interruption. Recognising her mood all of the people she worked with had been avoiding interrupting her, besides most knew at least some of what was going on and didn't know what to say.  
  
Dr. Taylor entered, "Amanda," he began, "I just came up to.."  
  
But Amanda was up out of her seat and speaking before he had a chance to finish, her hyperactive state driving her. "Dr. Taylor, I'm sorry I didn't know it was you. Have you got some news? How's Jesse?"  
  
Unlike her colleagues Bill Taylor had never seen Amanda like this before and was slightly taken aback by her whirlwind approach. He looked into her wide expectant eyes, gathering his thoughts to word a reply. He smiled, "Jesse's just come out of surgery and it was a complete success. Dr. Michaelson is very pleased with how things have gone and fairly confident of a good prognosis."  
  
Amanda let out a long breath and for the first time in hours relaxed. Some good news at last. It wasn't until that point that she realised just how concerned about Jesse she had been, with Mark and Steve missing, her emotions were all one knotted mess but as the relief washed over her, that at least one of her friends was out of danger, she gained some measure of how much it had worried her. She returned her colleagues' smile. "That's wonderful, thanks Bill."  
  
"Well I thought you would want to know straight away."  
  
"When can I see him?"  
  
"He's in recovery now so we should be getting him back to the ward in about 20 minutes."  
  
"Great," Amanda said warmly. "I'll just finish up here and then I'll come down to his room. I want to be there when he wakes up. Give him the promising news."  
  
Amanda made it to the room before Jesse and waited patiently until he was settled back in his bed before moving over to his side. She gently brushed the hair from his forehead and looked down at the serene peaceful face before her. He looked so young, but then a part of her thought that he always would. His features would never betray his true age, there was such a child like quality to them.  
  
She knew that his face would not show the lines of pain that she had seen etched there only that morning, at least, not until the anaesthetic wore off and she lamented the fact that he could not remain peacefully asleep until the wounds had healed and the pain had gone, away from the agony of recovery as the newly mending nerves protested their treatment, but she knew that the pain would be a necessary stage in that recovery and there was nothing she could do to make that better except be there to support him, as he had supported her through the birth of her son and the injuries that she had had over the years.  
  
She was deep in thought as he first began to stir. Her mind had drifted back to that morning when she had been told of Mark's disappearance, concern for her other two friends had temporarily pulled her thoughts away from the man in front of her. Now she was abruptly dragged back as Jesse jerked awake.  
  
"No, it can't be!" he cried out. She grabbed him and gently pushed him back as he attempted to raise himself to a sitting position.  
  
"Jess, It's ok everything went well. Just relax." She said calmly.  
  
Jesse blinked several times realising once again that he had woken from a nightmare. He took a deep breath to calm his rapidly beating heart and looked around him, assessing his whereabouts and arranging in his head the events of the day.  
  
"The operation?" he asked croakily once he had finally regained his perspective.  
  
"Was a complete success," Amanda reassured him. "You're going to be fine Jess."  
  
Still not convinced, after all his dreams had seemed so real. "My arm?" he asked, again his tone marked it clearly as a question.  
  
Amanda was momentarily confused but then realised that he could not bring himself to look down at his left side. She saw the fear that had been there earlier. Despite her reassurance he obviously could not believe that his dream had not come true. "It's fine, look for yourself." She said nodding in the direction of his arm.  
  
Jess stared into her eyes for a few moments searching for the lie that was not there. Amanda's expression spoke only of sincerity and concern and yet it was still difficult for him to overcome his fear. Finally he slowly turned his head to look at his bandaged arm and his whole body visibly relaxed as he let go of the apprehension. His sense of foreboding had been wrong. He really was going to be fine. "Thank God!" he whispered and rested his head back down on the pillow.  
  
At that moment there was some commotion out in the hall. The altercation was so loud that Jesse shifted his position trying to hear what was going on. Knowing that Jesse's curiosity would get the better of him no matter how groggy he felt from the operation, Amanda decided to preempt his questioning and go and find out for herself what was happening.  
  
"Stay there," she said unnecessarily, Jesse could move yes, but not get up. "I'll find out what it is and come back"  
  
Jesse nodded. If truth be told he was relieved to have a few moments to himself to recover his senses before he had to speak to anyone. Despite the evidence to the contrary, his fear had been so real, so strong that it had shaken him more then he wanted to admit to himself, let alone others. He needed a little time to get his thoughts organised.  
  
Out in the hallway Amanda found one very, very irate NSA agent in a stand off with two uniformed officers and a junior doctor. There was so much shouting going on that nobody could make themselves heard.  
  
Realising that she was the most senior member of the hospital staff in the vicinity Amanda joined in by shouting for everyone to be quiet. When nobody seemed to take any notice of her she took the only action that she could to get herself noticed. She barged into the middle of the group. "Will....you.... please... all be.....quiet." She said, emphasising each word by pushing each of the protagonists backwards a pace.  
  
There was something about her authoritative manner coupled with a barely contained fury that made all of them stop in their tracks and stare at the white coated woman who had shoved them away from each other.  
  
When everyone was quiet and looking at her she smiled at them, but she kept her tone authoritative as she spoke. "That's better," she said "Now this is a hospital. Would one of you like to tell me what is so important that the whole ward needs to be disturbed by it." She held up her hand to forestall any repeat of the cacophony. "One at a time please. Agent Harris?"  
  
Stephanie was seething, obviously barely keeping her emotions in check. "The man in that room is a material witness in an ongoing NSA investigation and these idiots here won't let me in to see him."  
  
"The man who was shot at the shopping mall?" Amanda asked, putting two and two together.  
  
Agent Harris nodded.  
  
Amanda turned to look at the police guards on the door.  
  
"We have orders not to let anyone," he emphasised the word, "in to see the prisoner unless the Captain himself approves it, and that includes agents of the NSA. Besides, the doc here said he ain't well enough yet."  
  
Without needing to ask anything Amanda turned her gaze on the young doctor. "He's right. We only just brought him up from surgery. It will be a couple of hours before he will be up to visitors," he glanced nervously at the NSA agent but couldn't keep himself from adding. "Especially hostile ones."  
  
Stephanie bit back a sarcastic reply and instead just furnished the doctor with her most intimidating glare. Satisfyingly he shrank back from it.  
  
"Then I suggest that you go away and come back in a couple of hours," Amanda stated. Stephanie turned her glare on her but Amanda just returned it.  
  
"But that man in there may be the one who shot your friend Dr. Travis and also may be able to help us with the whereabouts of Dr. Sloan." Stephanie protested attempting to appeal to Amanda's self interests.  
  
"That may be," Amanda replied calmly, "but my first duty is to the patients in this hospital and until his doctor says he's well enough to receive visitors, then, if these police officers don't stop you getting in, I will make sure that hospital security does."  
  
"I could always pull rank in the interests of national security." Stephanie suggested.  
  
"You could, " Amanda held her ground as she continued to meet the agent glare for glare. "But you won't. So go away and come back in a couple of hours. Use the time to go and see Captain Newman and sort out approval for your visit. It will make it easier all round."  
  
Stephanie looked at the four people standing in the way of her objective and decided that this was a battle she had lost. "Oh don't you worry," she said as she turned and walked away down the corridor. "I intend to do just that."  
  
Everyone breathed a sigh of relief as she disappeared from sight.  
  
"Thank you Dr. Bentley," The young doctor said gratefully.  
  
"Don't thank me yet," Amanda replied warily. "This is not over, we just won round one."  
  
  
  
Jesse had drifted back to sleep almost as soon as Amanda had left the room but was woken moments later by the ringing phone. Still groggy from the anaesthetic he reached out to answer it more by instinct than by conscious thought. He shifted awkwardly on the bed hampered by the bulky bandaging.  
  
"Hello, Dr. Travis speaking," he said into the receiver.  
  
"Ah, Hello Jesse, it's Carl Milford, I was hoping to speak to Mark. Is he around?"  
  
Jesse vaguely recognised the name. Carl Milford was an old friend of Mark's, whom Jesse had met at a few fundraising dinners and one or two parties at the beach house. "No I'm sorry he's not. Can I take a message." Jesse replied his brain almost on autopilot, replying as he would if circumstances had been normal.  
  
"Yes, he's executor of the Van Heus estate and I just wanted to ask him if he's been out to the cabin in the last day. One of the neighbours rang up to tell me that he's seen some movement up there and I just wanted to check that it wasn't Mark before I take any action. Could you get him to ring me back please?'  
  
"Yeah, sure as soon as I see him." Jesse replied wearily.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"No problem," Jesse replied as the line went dead.  
  
He barely dropped the handset back into it's cradle before he had drifted off to sleep again.  
  
Amanda walked back into the room to find that Jesse was asleep. She smiled to herself, at least it allowed her to put off having to tell him about Mark. She went and sat down next to the bed and turned to stare at the wall that divided this room from the next. Wondering what Jesse would think if he knew that there was a possibility that the man who had shot him was just on the other side of the wall.  
  
  
  
It had been four long hours of waiting. Emma checked the monitors again just to be sure that her eyes weren't deceiving her. No it was true, Steve's temperature was finally starting to fall. She briefly debated going to wake Mark to tell him the good news but decided to leave him to rest until Steve started to show some signs of wakefulness.  
  
She had just reached this decision when it became apparent that it was unnecessary, sound from the bedroom indicated that Mark was already awake. He entered the living room still yawning and stretching. Exhaustion had allowed him to get some rest but his heightened anxiety, coupled with his minds active deliberation of the reasons for what had happened, had not allowed him to rest longer than the minimum time his mind needed to recuperate from the long hours of worry and insomnia of the night before..  
  
He was still tired but at least he had had enough rest to function. His mind had cleared a little and even as he returned to check on Steve's condition he was deliberating what he could do now to solve the mystery surrounding Richard Fielding's death.  
  
As he entered the room Emma turned her smile on him. "Dr. Sloan, I was wondering whether to come and get you. Good news, Steve's temperature is starting to drop."  
  
Mark moved over quickly to check on his son, encouraged by the news. "Has he shown any signs of waking?" He asked as he checked the monitor's again.  
  
"No, I'm afraid he hasn't stirred since we settled him." Emma replied.  
  
That was not so good. Mark would have expected a return to consciousness after this length of time. Steve's fever had been high and the possibility of coma was a real one. Mark cursed himself for leaving his son even to take the much needed rest. He quickly knelt next to Steve and started to check his reflexes.  
  
Having carried out the necessary checks, he sat back, his expression a mixture of confusion and relief. Steve was definitely not in a comatose state, his reflexes all responded normally. So there was no reason for him not to have woken and yet he still showed no sign that he would wake.  
  
Emma looked at the doctor's expression. "Is everything all right?"  
  
Mark noted her concern and smiled to reassure her. "Yes, he does seem to be improving. I'm just worried that he's not awake yet." He thought for a little longer. "But his body has taken quite a lot of punishment over the last couple of days, he probably just needs the rest." He turned his attention to Emma. "Which you promised to do yourself."  
  
"I know." She sat down opposite the doctor. "I just don't think I could at the moment. I keep thinking of the trouble I've caused for you and Steve and Dr. Travis." She paused before continuing quietly, "and if I close my eyes there's the sight of Richard..." She stopped speaking she was staring ahead without seeing as her mind dealt with the enormity of the emotions once more.  
  
Mark watched her reactions carefully. He always trusted his instincts with people and despite the story she had related earlier he was certain that she had no complicity in her husband's death.  
  
Now he had two tasks; to convince her of that fact and to find out who had. He had had time to think about the events she had described and his instincts told him that Emma held the key to what had happened. It was locked in her memory of the events of Saturday and her conversations with her husband and given her emotional state it was going to be a difficult task to unlock those memories without pushing her over the edge.  
  
"I know it's difficult but if you don't get some rest soon you are going to collapse," Mark said gently getting up and moving to rest a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Fortunately I know a good doctor who can give you something to help you sleep."  
  
She turned tearful eyes up to him and returned his smile. "You're not going to take no for an answer are you?"  
  
"Not when my patients welfare is a concern, no." he replied, "besides I only recently followed some similar advice myself and the person who gave it to me was right."  
  
Emma stood still smiling. "OK you win I'll try."  
  
Mark followed Emma into the second of the bedrooms and gave her a mild sedative and waited until it had taken before returning to Steve's side to sit and wait and think.  
  
Stephanie's entrance at the police station made everyone turn and stare. Not for the usual reason that she made heads turn, her looks, but because of the cloud of anger that didn't so much follow her as announce her presence as she entered the building. The air around her positively bristled with energy as she breezed past everyone without pausing for the formalities that visitors to the station normally had to endure.  
  
She entered the squadroom and scanned for her objective. Spotting him she walked straight over, if she had not already had the attention of everyone in the room then her shouted opening to the conversation would have drawn it. "Detective Turner just what the hell do you think you were playing at?"  
  
Nathan had been half expecting this. He looked at the angry glaring eyes of the woman who stood before him and then glanced around at the dozen pairs of eyes that had turned to watch the show. "Not here." he stated firmly and turned and walked from the room.  
  
The implication in his actions was clear and Stephanie turned on her heel and followed him. Ironically he showed agent Harris into the same interrogation room that Steve had used to meet the two agents the day before.  
  
Once the door was closed behind them. Nathan turned to face agent Harris whose anger by now was tangible. "Before you start," he said holding up his hand as she opened her mouth to lay into him once more. "I'd just like to say that you probably aren't going to say anything that I haven't already said to myself, or heard from my Captain."  
  
It was true all the way back from the hospital to the station he had been questioning his own decisions, only to receive a twenty minute dressing down from Captain Newman when he arrived. It would have been longer, if the Captain hadn't been called to a meeting with the chief and the mayor to explain the incident in one of LA's biggest shopping malls. But the worst thing by far, as far as Nathan was concerned, in dealing with the aftermath of Dr. Sloan's abduction was watching Amanda's reaction.  
  
When he had told her, it was as if he had drained the emotion out of her, one piece of bad news too many. He had watched her beautiful face cloud over and no reassurance he could give her seemed to penetrate. She had left in such a dazed state, like a lost child, that he had wanted nothing more than to take her in his arms and tell her that everything would be all right.  
  
Amanda was normally so strong about everything that it had shaken him to see her like that, and the fact that he could not stay and make sure that she was all right had only made it harder to take. After that there was nothing that anyone could say to him that could have made him feel any worse.  
  
So he met Agent Harris' assault head on "In fact I don't think anyone could make me feel worse about what happened but I'm willing to let you give it a try. So give it your best shot." He continued, opening his hands wide in a gesture of supplication.  
  
Stephanie opened and closed her mouth, Nathan's unexpected reaction momentarily taking the wind from her sails. "We were supposed to be working together," was the best that she could manage.  
  
"Look Dr. Sloan was calling the shots this morning. It was go with him or lose our only chance of a lead and there wasn't time to call anyone else."  
  
"So you lost our lead and Dr. Sloan instead." Stephanie replied allowing the words to drip with venom.  
  
"Yes," Nathan admitted "I did, but at the time I had no options. Do I regret it? Yes but only because of the way it turned out."  
  
Stephanie's eyes narrowed. "Good, I'm glad you can see what a fiasco this morning was because I'm going to tell you how it's going to be from now on." She moved in on Nathan causing him to step back. The single pace took his back to the wall. She pressed her index finger onto his chest to emphasise her point as she allowed the oppressive tension to hang round him for a moment. Her face close enough to his for him to feel her breath. "Yesterday detective, you threatened me to get my cooperation. Now I find that you have an inside track to several people involved in the investigation and you are keeping me out of things." She paused fixing him with an icy stare. When she continued she had dropped her voice to a seductive whisper. "So now I'm going to threaten you. Unless you keep me posted on everything you do in this investigation, I'll open up an NSA file on you and bury you so deep that you'll spend the next two years being interviewed in the interests of national security. You will simply disappear."  
  
Nathan swallowed, trying to remind himself that she had probably learnt as he had that the essence of a threat was in the delivery. If so she had learnt from a master.  
  
She paused just long enough for the threat to hit home and to allow him to gauge the sincerity in her eyes, she meant every word, before continuing, "So from now on 'partner' I'm going to be your shadow. Everything you know, I know. I don't even want you to go to the bathroom without me knowing about it."  
  
She stepped back and turned to walk away a few paces before she turned to face him again a smile now on her face. "Do I take it that we understand each other?" She asked her tone had reverted to that of an amicable colleague.  
  
Nathan who hadn't realised quite how much he had tensed, took a deep breath and relaxed. He met the agent's gaze. "Perfectly"  
  
"Good then perhaps you could take me through exactly what happened this morning." She moved towards the door "at your desk I think." She said opening the door and waking back out into the hall.  
  
Bemused Nathan straightened his tie and settled down his breathing, up to five minutes ago he had thought that he was good at threats, then he followed his new 'partner' back to his desk.  
  
  
  
Mark was deep in thought when he heard the engine of the car approaching the cabin. Instantly alert, his first thought was that somehow they had been found, either by the people who had shot at them or, perhaps just as bad given Steve's encounter with them, the NSA.  
  
He had had time to think and now had even more reason, having removed the bullet from Steve's shoulder, not to trust the NSA he was fairly sure that the bullet came from a pistol and not from a high velocity rifle like the one that had hit Jesse. Which meant that whoever had shot Steve had been much closer to him and was therefore most likely one of the agents. Emma had caught enough of a view of them even in all the commotion to be able to say they were involved in the gun battle.  
  
He looked frantically around for some means to protect his son and spotted Steve's gun where Emma had left it on the side table. He went over and with a slight hesitation, picked it up. It felt uncomfortable in his hand. He hated guns and abhorred violence but there was no way that he would let Steve come to any further harm without at least putting up a fight.  
  
With his heart beating rapidly and his blood thundering in his ears he moved to stand behind the curtained window and watched as the large black BMW drew up outside. The windows were tinted so he could not see who or how many were in the car. Glancing back at Steve he said a silent prayer that it was the police who had found them but he knew that it would be unlikely that they would arrive in such a car.  
  
He turned his attention back to the vehicle as he heard the unmistakable click of the driver's door opening. He drew in a deep breath and held it. 


	17. CHAPTER17

Part 20 Emotions  
  
Amanda left Jesse's room for the second time to check on a commotion in the corridor. She was confronted by four people again. This time the two police officers were having a 'discussion' with two gentlemen in suits. The older of the two was doing most of the talking the younger, who looked like he had been in a fight, stood slightly behind and remained quiet. The discussion was a little less heated than earlier but Amanda had still been able to hear it from inside Jesse's room and was worried that it would wake him.  
  
After his brief return to consciousness, Jesse had remained asleep for most of the afternoon and Amanda had brought her reports down to finish off so that she could sit with him. She had been working quietly when the noise outside had disturbed her.  
  
This time she did not need to shout or push to make herself heard. As she approached the older of the two men turned to look at her and nodded his head in acknowledgment. There was definitely something to be said for the old school of manners.  
  
"Ah doctor," he read the name from her badge, "Bentley, perhaps you can help us. We need to get in to interview the man in that room but these officers don't seem to want to let us in."  
  
"And you gentlemen are?"  
  
"Forgive me I'm agent Dobbs and this is agent Steele. We work for the NSA. I believe you've met our colleague Agent Harris." He turned to look at the officers again. "I've explained that we have permission from Captain Newman but they still refuse."  
  
Amanda turned to look at the officers. The same man who had spoken earlier replied to her unspoken question. "Dr. Parker asked us to make sure no one came to interview the prisoner until he had given him the all clear. I've explained to these gentlemen that they will have to wait but they don't seem to want to take no for an answer."  
  
"Please understand doctor," Dobbs was being at his most diplomatic, "We only want to talk to the man. He may hold vital information in an investigation. Every minute that we waste may be important."  
  
Amanda looked at him, much as she did not like the NSA at least this man seemed more reasonable than the belligerent agent Harris and, as agent Harris had pointed out, she did have a vested interest in finding out what the injured man knew. "All right," she said, "but this is not my patient, the best I can do is to page Dr. Parker and see if I can get you permission to see him. In the meantime perhaps you'd like to go and get a coffee. I'll send someone to get you when I have an answer."  
  
"Thank you," Dobbs said and motioning to his partner to follow he turned and headed off down the corridor without further argument.  
  
  
  
The door to the BMW opened and every muscle in Mark's body tensed. His hand tightened on the grip of the pistol.  
  
The man who stepped out of the car was just a little younger than Mark. His hair was the same soft white but he had not been as blessed in holding on to all of it as Mark had, so the center was completely bald. He was also heavier set and slightly shorter and Mark recognised him instantly as his friend Carl Milford.  
  
The relief was tremendous as Mark let out the breath he had been holding and his muscles relaxed. So pronounced was the change that Mark had to lean against the frame of the window whilst he regained control of his limbs, his mind rapidly assessing the situation. Carl was the lawyer in charge of probate on the will for Van Heus, the will Mark was executor on, of which the property he now stood in was a part. He quickly headed for the door to intercept his friend before he entered. There was no way that he would be able to explain away his injured son or the signs of the makeshift operating theater which still remained in the living room.  
  
Mark hadn't quite acknowledged his state of mind until he almost walked out of the door to greet his friend with Steve's gun still in his hand. As he opened the door, however he noticed the glint of sunlight on metal and quickly concealed the offending article in his pocket. "Carl," he greeted loudly and affably as he moved out on to the porch.  
  
Carl Milford had been standing by his car looking across at the cabin, having arrived he had been unsure of what to do. On spotting Mark a huge, relieved grin, covered his face. "Mark," he returned the greeting, moving forwards to meet his friend half way. "It is you, I'd come down here half expecting the cabin to be overrun by squatters. You should have let me know you were coming out here."  
  
"Yes, Carl, I'm sorry, I just came up here on a whim." Mark replied, doing his utmost to sound his usual relaxed and friendly self, which, given the maelstrom of emotions he had experienced in the last twenty four hours was not easy.  
  
He spent the next fifteen minutes chatting to his old friend. He managed to persuade him, making it sound like an off the cuff idea, that it was a beautiful day for a short walk in the woods thus neatly avoiding having to explain why he wasn't inviting him inside.  
  
By the time they returned to the front of the cabin, Mark had managed to reassure the lawyer that he had just decided to take the opportunity to get some fresh air, taking advantage of the fact that the cabin was empty, and he had promised not to do anything like this again without remembering to call first and let him know.  
  
For his part Carl had assured Mark that it was no trouble, as he was heading out of town himself for a few days and had just called on his way.  
  
"We'll have to get together when I get back," Carl said as he climbed into his car.  
  
"Yes, I'd like that," Mark replied, "I'll give you a call." He helped shut the door and stepped back to wave his friend off.  
  
  
  
There were three things that surprised Steve as he slowly returned to consciousness. The first was that he had returned to consciousness at all. The way he had felt the last time he had been lucid and awake, he had genuinely believed that he might never wake up again.  
  
The second thing that surprised him was that he felt a little better, which wasn't to say that he didn't feel awful, but, since he had passed out the day before, every time he had woken he had felt progressively worse, as the pain in his shoulder had increased and the fever had begun to take hold, but now the pain had receded to a dull ache and both the fever and the accompanying headache did not seem as bad.  
  
The third thing that surprised him was the unmistakable sound of his father's voice as it drifted in through the open window.  
  
Steve forced his eyes open and tried to focus. "Dad?" he whispered the question out loud as he looked round and tried to make sense of his situation. He was still on the couch in the living room of the cabin but the furniture had been rearranged slightly. He caught sight of the IV line coming out of the back of his hand and followed it up to the bag hanging from a standard lamp that was serving as a makeshift stand. So, that explained, at least in part, why he was feeling better.  
  
There was no sign of Emma in the room. He shifted his position slightly so he could get a better view and instantly regretted it as the pain from his shoulder and his ribs intensified in protest at being asked to move. He drew in a sharp breath between clenched teeth and waited for it to pass. Then he strained again to listen for his father's voice but there was nothing.  
  
He lay back on the pillow concentrating on ordering his memories and sorting the reality from illusion, fully aware that the fever he had could cause him to hallucinate.  
  
If his father was there it would certainly explain the drip and why he felt so much better than previously, in fact why he was waking up at all. Mark must have somehow figured out where he was and come to help him.  
  
But if his dad had found him, why wasn't he lying in a bed in Community General? Why was he still here? One thing Steve knew about his father was that he would move heaven and earth to get people to hospital where they could get the care that they needed. If his father had found him, then surely the first thing he would have done was call an ambulance. So it couldn't have been him, could it?  
  
He had just about convinced himself that hearing his father's voice must have been an hallucination when he heard it again, faint at first but then growing stronger. It was definitely his dad and he appeared to be talking to someone outside.  
  
Steve listened as he heard a car door shutting and an engine starting up and he suddenly realised that if that was his father, he did not want him to leave without having a chance to talk to him. The experience of coming so close to dying, and the relief at realising that he hadn't, made him want, need to see and talk to his father.  
  
If that was Mark leaving then he had to stop him. Gritting his teeth against the pain he started to push himself to a sitting position and then swung his legs around. He shifted to the edge of the couch so that he could get the maximum leverage and started to shakily push himself to a standing position.  
  
  
  
Mark stood and watched the BMW drive away. He kept up his act until the vehicle was out of sight, smiling and waving to his departing friend, but as the vehicle disappeared from view, his smile disappeared too, his hand fell back to his side and his shoulders visibly drooped. He let out a long sigh but made no move to go back inside.  
  
That had been a close call, if Carl hadn't accepted his explanation as to why he was there, and had insisted on going inside, he would have had a lot of explaining to do. He did not like lying to his old friends like that but he had little choice. The less people knew where he was the less danger he, Emma and, most importantly at the moment, Steve were in.  
  
Mark had been quite relieved when Carl had told him he would be going out of town for a few days, as there was a good chance that his highly public 'abduction' had made the local press, it would have been awkward trying to explain that away if Carl had gone back to town and read about it.  
  
Having taken a couple of minutes to recover from this latest stress, he turned wearily to make his way back inside. As he opened the door he was not expecting the sight that greeted him. Instead of being peacefully asleep as he had left him. Steve was sitting up on the couch and trying to stand.  
  
"Steve," Mark called sharply, in the same tone that he had used when Steve was a child and he had caught him doing something wrong. "Steve," he repeated, "Don't try to get up. What are you doing?"  
  
Steve had been focusing all of his powers of concentration on getting himself to his feet. He was still feeling groggy, worse since he had tried to get up So he needed to concentrate for simple tasks. His thoughts weren't that coherent either. He just knew that he needed to stop the car driving away, to stop his father leaving.  
  
He had just about managed to push himself to a shaky standing position, when Mark's cry drew his attention from his task. He looked up momentarily confused by the fact that his father was not in the car that he had heard beginning to depart. "Dad? I..." he began but did not get to finish as his loss of concentration made him begin to lose his somewhat tenuous balance.  
  
Fortunately Mark's long stride had him across the room in seconds and he was able to support his son's descent back on to the couch "Come on, you're in no condition to be moving around yet," he said softly as he very gently helped him settle back down on the pillows.  
  
Reassured by his father's presence, Steve allowed himself to be helped to lie down, talking as he did so. He was still not thinking clearly and his speech was hesitant as he tried to fit his cascading thoughts into some sort of order.. "Sorry dad I thought you were leaving.... the car.... I didn't want you to go." He said, trying to explain his actions. "Not that I knew you were here, I just thought I heard, " Steve paused. Mark had just about managed to get him settled back again, when he started to try to sit up as a new set of questions crowded his thoughts "Why..." he began. " How did you get here?" Not leaving time to reply he pressed on. "Did you..."  
  
"Steve," Mark interrupted, pushing him gently but firmly back down against the pillows "You need to lie back and rest son, One question at a time and I'll answer as well as I can."  
  
Steve looked up into his father's eyes and let out a long sigh relaxing back on to the pillows and allowing some of the tension to drain out of him. He drew in a deep breath to replace the expelled air and made a conscious effort to calm himself. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.  
  
"It's all right." Mark replied, checking Steve's IV, then turning his attention fully back to his son. He sat down and placed his hand on his arm. "You have nothing to feel sorry about." He cast a critical eye over Steve's pale complexion "How are you feeling?"  
  
Steve watched his father's appraisal of him, Mark's expression a mixture of deep affection and concern as his eyes swept up and down assessing every detail of his son's condition, the blend of professional doctor and concerned father never more evident than in that action. Finally he met Steve's gaze.  
  
"I'll be OK don't worry," Steve replied, his voice dry and husky from lack of moisture. Having rested back and allowed his breathing to settle, Steve's thoughts were beginning to clear.  
  
"Do you realise that's the answer you have given me virtually every time you've hurt yourself since you were six, and trust me that means its had a lot of use." Mark smiled as memories of his six year old son, picking his bike up and heading back to the house insisting that he was fine, even though he had just fractured his wrist in the fall, flashed through his mind. Steve hadn't changed since then, except for the fact that his injuries were usually worse. "And," he continued, "I know you too well to believe you."  
  
"Dad," Steve ignored the query. He had too many questions of his own. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Mark sighed inwardly, he might as well ask his son how many grains of sand were on the beach as ask him how he was feeling. He was likely to get just as accurate an answer. He thought about the question and decided that he needed to be blunt if he was going to get anything from his son. "Saving your life apparently."  
  
A guilty look crossed Steve's face as he caught the mixture of pain and fear that accompanied the statement. "Dad I..." he started another apology, but Mark had opened an emotional floodgate and the next words left his mouth unbidden.  
  
"You almost died Steve. I nearly didn't make it in time." There was a pause before Mark could continue tears welled up in his eyes. "You walked out of the hospital with a bullet in you. What were you thinking?"  
  
Steve was momentarily taken aback as he watched the emotions intensify on his father's face, his sense of guilt at the effect his actions must have had grew as he considered how worried he would have been if his dad had disappeared in similar circumstances. He tried the apology again. "I'm sorry dad... I didn't mean..." Somehow it seemed inadequate. He needed to try to explain his actions. "I just had to..." He shifted slightly on the pillows as he tried to find a more comfortable position and winced at the sharp waves of pain that rippled out from his shoulder.  
  
Mark hadn't meant to apply any emotional pressure, Steve was not strong enough yet to be anything other than calm and he instantly regretted the effect his words had had. Steve had a very high threshold for pain, he had demonstrated that many times so the fact that he was showing such a visible reaction must mean that it was bad. "I'll give you something for the pain," he said getting up to get his medical bag.  
  
"No," Steve replied sharply. Mark turned back to look at him. "Please I need to keep a clear head. There are some things I need to explain."  
  
Mark sat back down.  
  
"But first I need to know how much you know all ready. So how did you get here?"  
  
Mark took a deep breath and explained how Emma had arranged the meeting in the shopping mall, how careful she had been to make sure that there was no one else involved and that she had tried to ensure that he did not get into trouble by making it seem like an abduction. He did not mention the shooting and tried to keep his tone as light as possible, the last thing Steve needed was any more emotional upset.  
  
Steve listened quietly to his father's description of events. They were so close that he picked up on the emotional stress that he must have caused even though his dad was doing his best to cover it, but he let it pass without comment. The best way he could deal with this was to try to give reasons for his behaviour.  
  
"And then we arrived here." Mark was coming to the end of his narrative. "I treated your wound." It sounded so simple when he said it like that, "and then we both got some rest." Mark continued glancing across to the door of the bedroom as he spoke "Emma's still sleeping." He looked back at his son. "We talked a little about where and when you two met. I wasn't trying to pry but.."  
  
"That's OK dad, you had every right to be curious," Steve interrupted. He was quiet for a moment trying to decide where to start. "I've put you through a lot the last day or so and I'll try to explain although I'm not sure I fully understand myself."  
  
Steve found it difficult at the best of times to verbally express his feelings, preferring to be introspective. When he did talk, however, it was almost always to his father, yet another sign of their strong relationship, but of all the conversations of this type that he had had in his lifetime he knew this would be one of the most difficult. He was dealing not only with emotions that he had kept bottled up inside for the last thirty years, he was also trying to explain why those feelings had overridden everything else including his instinct for his own survival. Still, he owed this explanation to his father, who had been put through so much stress and worry himself in the last couple of days.  
  
There was a long pause whilst Steve once again tried to decide how to begin his explanation. Mark sat quietly and patiently realising how difficult this was for his son.  
  
Eventually Steve swallowed hard. "Do you remember telling me about how much you loved Mom and how you hoped that one day I would find someone that I would feel that way about?"  
  
Mark was taken aback by the question but answered quickly. It was a long held hope for his son that he would find the happiness that he had enjoyed with his mother. "Yes."  
  
"Well I think I did once, a long time ago."  
  
"Emma?" Mark asked already knowing the answer  
  
"Yes," Steve's reply was quiet, he had moved his gaze away from his father and now stared down at the blankets that covered him. "From the moment I saw her, I knew there was something and the more I got to know her the more perfect it became. She was like..." he paused trying to find the right expression. "Like finding a missing part of myself ." He turned to look back into his father's eyes. "She was the one true love that I have had."  
  
Mark could see the pain in his son's eyes, not physical pain but emotional. "You never said anything."  
  
The pain deepened. Steve's voice caught as he spoke. "I couldn't, didn't want to admit..." a pause, "I lost her." Another pause slightly longer. "I loved her and then I lost her." The emotional response to the memory was enough to make a single tear roll down his cheek. He made no attempt to wipe it away.  
  
He continued with his explanation, unwilling to dwell on emotions which if he did not keep a tight control on them, he knew would overwhelm him.  
  
"When I heard her voice, saw her again on Saturday night, it was like nothing had changed, even after all this time. I had to help her whatever it cost, whatever she had done. I wanted to, I needed to protect her." His eyes searched his father's expression. "I hope you can understand that." He looked down again "I'm just sorry that it affected you as well."  
  
Mark squeezed his son's arm offering reassurance in the gesture. He watched as his son fought to keep control of feelings which were clearly deeply routed in his psyche. How well he understood the compulsion to protect those that you loved. He thought of his wife and of how he would have done anything in his power, up to and including sacrificing himself, if he had thought that it would save her from suffering. "It's OK son," he said quietly "I understand."  
  
Steve raised his eyes meeting his father's and for a few moments they just sat in silence, each lost in a maze of emotional experience.  
  
Steve broke the silence with a slight cough, enough to pull his expression into a grimace as the pain once again lanced up from his shoulder. Mark wasn't having any protests this time. He moved to get his medical bag.  
  
  
  
Jesse had finally woken properly around 4 p.m. and was sitting up in bed chatting to Amanda, who in an attempt to divert his attention from Mark's absence, and the subsequent questions that would bring, was describing in detail CJ and Dion's latest antics.  
  
Amanda had managed to arrange for Dobbs and Steele to get in to interview the shooting suspect and they had spent about ten minutes with him before Nathan had arrived with Agent Harris to take over.  
  
Nathan had popped in to see how Jesse was before joining Agent Harris in the next room, by the time he got out on to the corridor having had a brief chat with Amanda, Dobbs and Steele were just passing him, having clearly been dismissed by Stephanie. He caught a brief snippet of their conversation as they passed by.  
  
"I'm telling you, if she pulls that, 'I'm taking over, you go do something less important' routine on me again I'll..." Dobbs was saying, he did not finish verbalising the threat.  
  
"I know, what you mean, she is pushing it. If I could..." Steele replied and then they were past him and out of earshot. So Stephanie had been using her charm and diplomacy on her coworkers again, Nathan reflected as he pushed through the door into the hospital room.  
  
  
  
Meanwhile Jesse and Amanda received another visitor. There was a light knock on the door, interrupting Amanda's tale of Dion's over successful attempts to teach CJ how to climb trees. Resulting in one very stuck, very frightened child halfway up an oak tree in the park. Climbing down again had apparently not been part of the lesson.  
  
"Come in, " both Jesse and Amanda said simultaneously and the door opened, to reveal Alison Porter  
  
"Hi," she said forcing a smile, "I hope you don't mind me showing up again, but there really is nowhere else I could go and I needed someone to talk to."  
  
Amanda stood and gestured her into the room pulling up another seat. "No of course not we're happy to have you."  
  
Alison sat, "It's just I've not been in LA that long and apart from Steve I don't really know anyone that well and with what's happened to Steve and now Mark."  
  
Amanda realised moments too late that the topic she had been avoiding discussing with Jesse was not going to be avoided any longer. With no chance to warn Alison that Jesse did not yet know, she now had to think fast about what she was going to say, as Jesse looked first from one to the other then asked the obvious question.  
  
"What's happened to Mark?"  
  
Alison realised her mistake at the same moment and looked apologetically across at Amanda.  
  
Amanda let out a deep sigh. "Well when..."  
  
At that moment the door flew open and a rather flustered looking Nathan shouted "Amanda we need you next door now."  
  
Recognising the urgency Amanda did not hesitate as her professional instincts cut in. She jumped from her seat and headed out of the room leaving Jesse and Alison to watch and wonder what was happening.  
  
Jesse knew in that moment that, whatever the risks, he had made the right decision, to have the surgery. The desire to jump up and run after Amanda, to be part of the action was such a strong instinct within him that he almost went to follow. He managed to restrain himself but knew that he would have regretted it for the rest of his life if he had denied himself the opportunity to work in the ER again.  
  
He turned to look at Alison. She was the first to speak. "I guess I'd better try and tell you what I know about Mark." She began and proceeded to explain what she knew about Mark's abduction.  
  
It was a good fifteen minutes before Amanda returned to the room by that time Alison had completed her explanation and she and Jesse were discussing their fears for their friends. They stopped speaking as Amanda came back in and dropped wearily into the chair. "He died," she said. "The shooter from the mall this morning." She looked across at Jesse it was clear from his expression that he knew who she was talking about and she surmised that Alison had filled him in during her absence. She continued the dejection clear in her voice. "He was the only lead that might have helped us find Steve and Mark and he's dead." 


	18. CHAPTER18

Part 21 Poison.  
  
Mark returned with his bag and began preparing the injection for the IV line.  
  
"Dad," Steve said his voice still strained and quiet. He had another question that he had to ask before his father gave him the pain relief which he knew, in his current weakened condition, would probably send him to sleep again. Not that it wouldn't be welcome, since he had awoken the pain had increased considerably as the anesthetic wore off completely, but, having completed his explanations, there was something he needed to know before he allowed himself to surrender once again to the luxury of sleep.  
  
There was something about his son's tone that made Mark stop mid action and look down, pausing to wait for the question that he knew would follow.  
  
"Jesse?" Steve asked. "The last time I saw him he was.... How is he?"  
  
Mark spotted the guilt which once again washed across his son's features. He could also see the deep lines of pain etched on his forehead and the change in breathing pattern as Steve used his breaths to help try to control the pain and yet still his only concern was for others, first to ensure that his father knew why he had taken the course he had. It had been important to Steve that Mark should understand, to explain some of the emotional trauma, and now his concern was for his friend Jesse.  
  
Mark sighed, perhaps if Steve worried a little more for himself then he wouldn't end up hurt and hurting so often. Then again Mark wouldn't have him any other way.  
  
"He's going to be fine Steve, you got him to the hospital in time." Mark replied, continuing to prepare the injection. "Now you concentrate on getting yourself better so that we can sort this mess out." He made the injection directly into the IV line and sat back waiting for it to take effect.  
  
Steve let the relief wash over him with the painkiller. The combination of the two along with the comforting presence of his father gave him a fuzzy sense of well-being that seemed to start at his shoulders and permeate out as his whole body released its tension. For the first time in days Steve relaxed and, just as he had known it would, sleep claimed him.  
  
  
  
Amanda sat upright in the chair attempting to shake off the dejection. "We're not sure what it was yet but I'm not entirely happy that it was natural causes so until I've had time to do an autopsy it's being treated as a suspicious death." She looked at Jesse and Alison in turn. "I'm afraid that I'm going to have to leave you again in a few minutes as soon as they have done the preliminaries and moved the body."  
  
"That's OK," Alison said smiling at Jesse and trying hard to lift the mood before they all descended into despair. "I'm sure that I can keep Dr. Travis company. From what Steve has told me, and from what I've seen, I don't think we'll have much trouble making conversation."  
  
"Hey it's Jess to my friends," Jesse said grinning back, "and the first topic of conversation can be ' What has Steve told you about me?'"  
  
"Trust me it's all good," Alison continued the smile, "Well almost all," she added mischievously. Even Amanda found her mood lifting slightly at the light banter. No wonder Steve liked this woman. Not for a second did Amanda doubt her concern for Steve and Mark it was clear in her eyes that the worry was still there, but she had recognised that remaining morose was not going to help anyone  
  
"Besides," Alison continued, "I have an ulterior motive for being here. From what Steve has told me about all of you, I know that you help him out a lot on his cases, so I thought that maybe.." she paused unsure of whether she was speaking out of turn, changing tack mid sentence as she thought of another way of putting her suggestion. "That is, if you are helping out, in the investigation to find out what is going on then.... maybe I could help too." She looked first to Jesse and then to Amanda trying to gauge their reaction.  
  
Jesse hadn't really been involved in anything so far, apart from being one of the victims, but now that he was awake the idea of helping out appealed to him, even if all he could do was listen to facts and offer his opinions. On more than one occasion his insights had led to a valuable break in an investigation, and with Steve and Mark missing he wanted to do all he could.  
  
Amanda had been considering asking Nathan what else she could do, apart from the latest autopsy. Looking across now at Jesse, whom she knew would be keen to do anything that he could, and the young woman who had just offered her help, it occurred to her that it couldn't hurt. She smiled, "If there is any chance that we can do anything to resolve this more quickly then I'm sure our help would be appreciated." She replied.  
  
"Good," Alison picked up the bag she had brought with her and pulled out a laptop. "I was hoping you'd say that because I've taken a couple of days leave of absence from work and I've made a start on a few files, but please don't tell the good detective Turner exactly what I have been up to. Going through the proper channels could take time that we don't have."  
  
Jesse and Amanda watched amazed at the rapid switch in their companion as she went from being slightly reticent about asking if she could perhaps help out, to confident professional who had seemingly already made a start. She powered up the computer and started tapping away at the keyboard. She looked up briefly and then back at the screen, concentrating on her task before stopping what she was doing as their surprised expressions registered in her mind. She looked back up at them. "I'm sorry is there something wrong?" she asked.  
  
Amanda replied for both of them. "No, we just didn't expect.... I mean we normally get our information from police reports and then do a little investigating of our own  
  
"I know I'm just trying to save us all a little time." Alison looked across at them, her eyes narrowed. "Steve did tell you what I do for a living didn't he"  
  
"That you work in the DA's office?" Jesse asked.  
  
"Yes, but he didn't tell you what I do there?"  
  
They both shook their heads.  
  
"Well I'm employed as a legal expert on all cases involving computers, theft, fraud, hidden files. You name it, I deal with it. Which means that if there is anything that you want to know and it's on a computer somewhere I can usually find it."  
  
She looked down at the screen. "So perhaps you'd like to see what I've found out so far," and she turned the computer to face them.  
  
Baker put the last of the files that he had been rechecking away just as Dobbs and Steele reentered the office. He smiled at them but got only scowls in return, especially from Dobbs who looked distinctly unhappy.  
  
Dobbs sat down at his computer and started pulling up files straight away, whilst Steele went over to get some coffee. Baker took the opportunity to join him and strike up a conversation. "Here I can do that if you like?" He offered.  
  
"Thanks but I think I'm safer over here," Steele replied nodding across to his partner. "I don't think I've ever seen him in a worse mood." He turned back keeping his tone low so that Dobbs would not overhear, not that he seemed to be paying either of them much attention. "Ever since we've been on this case it's been like working with a bear with a sore head but today, since the shooting incident this morning, he's been unbearable." Steele looked around as though he were once again checking that they could not be overheard. "And I blame Agent Harris. If you want to report to your superiors about why this thing is falling apart then I'd say it's down to her interference. Both Dobbs and I had an excellent track record until she took over."  
  
Baker was surprised, he had expected to have to work much harder to get any information out of Steele and here the man was opening up to him without even being asked. Obviously the resentment ran deep. "I could mention it in my report," he said joining in the conspiratorial tone. "If you think it will help anything."  
  
Steele fixed his brown eyes on the young man. "Yes I think it would, Thanks." He picked up his coffee and, no longer having an excuse to stay by the machine moved back to his desk.  
  
Baker watched him go and then turned his attention back to watching Dobbs. Steele's explanation for his partner's bad mood could be true. On the other hand there could be another explanation, if Dobbs was indeed a rogue agent.  
  
  
  
Amanda and Jesse were both amazed at the amount of information that Alison had managed to put together on the case. She had taken what Mark and Amanda had told her and used it to put together a thorough background on all of the people involved.  
  
She was still showing them what she had so far, when a nurse put her head around the door. "Dr. Bentley they told me to come and tell you that they are ready for you to move the body now."  
  
Amanda stood. "OK I'll be right there." She turned back to her companions. "I'll leave you to see what you can come up with. And you." She fixed her gaze firmly on Jesse, the strain of being awake was beginning to show. "Make sure that you don't overdo it. You need to rest."  
  
"OK mom," Jesse joked "I'll be good and take a nap soon," but despite the quip he appreciated the concern.  
  
"Don't worry," Alison said. "I'll make sure that he gets some rest soon."  
  
Jesse looked at her. "That's all I need, two of you to gang up on me."  
  
Amanda smiled, "No, I think that's exactly what you need," and with that she left the room.  
  
"What do you mean by..." He started to ask but Amanda had already gone. He turned to Alison "What do you think she meant by that?"  
  
  
  
Amanda entered the room next to Jesse's past the police guard who, until they had finished checking on the cause of death would remain on the door.  
  
Nathan and Stephanie were still both in the room. Stephanie stood by the window talking into her cell phone whilst Nathan sat in a chair in the corner watching the forensic team work. He still looked a little green around the edges. Now that he worked homicide he was getting used to seeing dead bodies but he had not stood and watched many people die in front of him and experiencing that for the first time had left him feeling nauseous.  
  
They had been attempting to ask the man some questions when he started to look distinctly unwell. At first they had both thought that he was putting it on but it soon became clear that he was having difficulty breathing. That was when he had gone to fetch Amanda but he was already too late.  
  
Amanda smiled at him as she walked over. "Hi how are you doing?" She asked, remembering how hard she had found it when she had watched a patient die in front of her for the first time. She touched her hand on his arm and gave it a gentle squeeze.  
  
Had it been anyone else expressing concern Nathan would have felt embarrassed at his feelings but he looked into Amanda's dark brown eyes and saw understanding. "I'll be fine," he said. "It's just a bit of a shock, talking to him one minute and then...." He didn't finish the sentence. Instead he returned her smile. "Really I'll be fine," he said, switching back to professional mode. "The forensics team is checking the room out just in case you're right and somebody got to him."  
  
"I'll go up and do the autopsy straight away. If you want to hang around until I've got my preliminary findings I shouldn't be more than an hour."  
  
Nathan looked at Stephanie who had by now completed her call and had joined the conversation. "You stay here and wait if you want," She replied to the inquiring glance. "I'm going back to the office to check into this guy's background. I'll call you later." She headed for the door, turning just before she reached it "Oh and detective," she added, "Remember our earlier conversation. I'll expect you to call me with a report as soon as you have anything." Making the most of her exit line, with what could only be described as a flourish, she pushed the door open and let it swing shut behind her.  
  
Amanda and Nathan watched her leave. Nathan turned to look at her. "Do you think she took drama at college or can you learn how to do that somewhere else?"  
  
"Oh the sad thing is I don't think she learnt that at all. That woman is just a natural." Amanda replied and they both started laughing, grateful for the excuse amidst all the tension.  
  
  
  
Mark watched Steve sleep. There was something oh so comforting about watching the gentle, even, rise and fall of Steve's chest, knowing that it was just sleep and that he would wake again soon.  
  
He relaxed back in the chair. He now had time to think, to employ his sharp mind doing what it did best. If there was ever any doubt about the idea that the more active the mind was, the more active it would remain even as you got older, Mark was living proof that it was unfounded. If anything age, and the wisdom it brought with it, had sharpened his thinking skills.  
  
Before considering the case, however, he could not help but examine the new insights the last few hours had given him into his son. He had wondered for a long time why Steve had never found 'the right woman,' the one he could settle down with, start a family with. He had thought that perhaps it was Steve's work. Dedicated as his son was to his job, it could lead to very antisocial working hours, not to mention the danger and worry his chosen profession put potential partners through, but Steve had dismissed that idea, saying it was nothing to do with the job. It was "just him."  
  
Until today Mark hadn't really understood that comment, thinking that possibly Steve was just afraid of commitment but it ran deeper than that. In Steve's mind he had found the right person to share his life with but she had chosen to leave him, and it was clear to Mark that she had been in Steve's mind and heart ever since. He had never dealt with the emotions of losing her, had never given himself a chance to heal so that he could move on, and so whenever he had found someone new, still raw emotions would resurface and any hope at a long term relationship was doomed before it began.  
  
Mark sighed aloud as this last thought occurred to him. Steve had been holding on to this pain for thirty years. He only hoped that seeing Emma again would act as some sort of catharsis, purging the emotions that prevented him from the contentment that Mark knew he desired. Contentment that Mark wished with all his soul that he could help him find.  
  
  
  
"Right that's it." Dobbs growled angrily. "I've had enough for one day." He looked across at Steele. "I say we call it a night and let little miss high and mighty do the overtime tonight on this one." He shut down his computer as he was speaking. "What do you say Steele? We call it a night?"  
  
"Mmm," Steele muttered obviously distracted by some information on his screen. He looked up finally registering the question. "No I think I'll just finish up with this but you go. I'll catch up with you in the morning".  
  
"Suit yourself." Dobbs replied standing up and grabbing his coat ."See you tomorrow." He did not seem to even notice Baker in the corner much less acknowledge him as he marched towards the door and out of the office.  
  
Baker had been 'ghosting' Dobbs' computer screen for the last hour, fairly easy if you knew what you were doing. As a consequence he had read everything that Dobbs had. He shut down his own machine and stood. "I think I'll call it a day too," he said nonchalantly. "I need to sort my hotel room out anyway," and, trying not to look too hurried, strolled out of the room after Dobbs.  
  
Outside he watched as his fellow agent crossed the car park and as discretely as possible he started to follow him. Suppressing the nagging thought that he shouldn't be doing this, that Dobbs was a potential killer, he carried on into the night.  
  
Nathan entered the path lab hesitantly, having no desire to come across the cut up remains of the man he had watched die, fortunately all of the bodies were covered. Amanda stood up from her desk as he entered.  
  
"I got your page."  
  
"Yes," Amanda replied moving over and handing him a file. "It's all in here but we are definitely dealing with murder. He died from poisoning, specifically poisoning from potassium cyanide."  
  
Nathan stared blankly at her this was like something out of a spy novel. "Are you sure?" was the only intelligible thing he could think of to say.  
  
"Positive."  
  
"How? He didn't eat or drink anything whilst we were there."  
  
"Well cyanide can come in the form of a gas, you can inhale it or it can even enter through the skin, but if that had happened then both you and agent Harris would have been affected too. So I started looking for other ways it could have entered the body."  
  
"And?"  
  
"And it gets even more like some spy thriller. The cyanide was placed directly into the IV bag in trace amounts. So small that it would take minutes, possibly even hours before enough had entered his system to kill him."  
  
"So, our suspect list consists of anyone who had access to that bag in the last few hours."  
  
"Pretty much."  
  
"In that case I'd better set about background checks on all of the hospital personnel who had access. For the time being they are all suspects." He let out a long breath. "Looks like it's going to be a long night."  
  
"Don't forget there are at least six other people apart from the hospital staff on that list." Amanda added. "The two officers on the door, all three of the NSA agents and yourself."  
  
Nathan smiled at the last comment. "And the only one of those I can definitely rule out on that list is me."  
  
"Are you sure of that," Amanda teased. "The way this case is going I wouldn't be surprised if you'd been drugged and hypnotised into administering the fatal poison by some foreign power."  
  
Nathan smiled at the idea. "You've been watching too many made for TV movies." He returned. He flipped his notebook closed. "I'd better go and make a start on this and report in with what we've found. Any idea how the cyanide was introduced into the bag."  
  
"There seems to be a small hole near the top above the fluid line when it's hung. A small pellet or capsule could have been dropped through it and into the bag." She looked over at the covered body. "The really sad thing is it was introduced so slowly into his system if we had realised what we were dealing with we could probably have saved him."  
  
"Hey, don't weep for him too hard." Nathan said meeting her gaze as she turned back to look at him. "We've just had it confirmed that his fingerprints were found on the shell casings taken from the roof after Jesse was shot and from the wreckage of the beach house. He doesn't deserve our sympathy."  
  
"Maybe not," Amanda said quietly, "but he didn't deserve to die either."  
  
"Well that's why we're going to figure out who did this and stop them." Nathan said resolutely.  
  
Baker hid in the shadows and watched as Dobbs went into his house. He checked his watch, damn he was going to be in trouble with Collins. He was supposed to have checked in over an hour ago but he had felt the need to follow up on his hunch about Dobbs. If he was right then it would be worth taking the flack from his boss. If he was wrong well...  
  
He was debating whether he could get any closer without being seen. He did not hear anything, did not see anything. He didn't even feel the blow strike. He just felt himself falling into blackness and then nothing.  
  
  
  
Part 22 A Peaceful night?  
  
By the time Amanda made it back down to Jesse's room he was asleep again. Alison had remained sitting next to his bedside and was typing quietly. She smiled up at Amanda as she entered.  
  
"How's he doing?" Amanda asked quietly nodding to her friend's sleeping form.  
  
"He's fine, he drifted off to sleep about half an hour ago and do you know everything Steve told me about him is true." Alison replied, also keeping her voice down so as not to wake him.  
  
"How so?"  
  
"I've never met anyone with so much energy. If this is what he's like when he's drugged I'd hate to meet him when he's fit and well. He's been giving me ideas and suggestions faster than I can type. He's um.." She paused for a second to repress her own doubts, "convinced that we will find both Mark and Steve and they'll be OK. He just thinks we need to figure out where to look."  
  
Amanda's smile broadened, that sounded like the Jesse she knew and loved. Part of her was very relieved. She had been worried that the ordeal that he had been through would have affected his normal enthusiastic zest for life, especially since two of his best friends were missing, but his hopeful optimism seemed thankfully irrepressible. "That sounds like Jess all right. So what have you found?"  
  
Alison spent the next hour or so talking quietly through her findings with Amanda. She had managed to discover Richard Fielding's connection to the NSA and some details of the case he was involved in. She had also done checks on the three NSA agents and the death of a fourth agent who seemingly had been stealing files.  
  
"Don't ask me where I got all this information from because I could tell you but..."  
  
"Then you would have to shoot me," Amanda finished for her.  
  
"Something like that," she smiled, "So what do you think?"  
  
"I think that it's all too complicated." Amanda answered. " There are two many unanswered questions for me to even know where to start but thanks to you at least we now know what the questions are." She thought for a moment. "Maybe the key is in those stolen files. If we find them I think we'll find our killer and more importantly Steve and Mark."  
  
"I'll start seeing if there is anything more I can find out."  
  
At that point the phone started ringing. Amanda cursed silently, she had forgotten to do something about the phone divert from Mark's beach house. Who would be ringing so late? She moved over to the phone and picked it up as quickly as possible watching Jesse to see if it had woken him. Fortunately he just shifted slightly but remained asleep.  
  
"Hello Dr. Amanda Bentley speaking."  
  
"Ah hello Dr. Bentley, I have someone to speak to you but first I must know are you alone." The voice on the other end of the line spoke with a very heavy accent that Amanda could not identify.  
  
"I don't.." Amanda began but the voice interrupted.  
  
"Please it is extremely important that you answer the question. Are you alone?" the voice repeated.  
  
"No I'm here with a friend of mine, Miss Porter, and Dr. Travis but he's sleeping at the moment." Amanda answered too curious to find out what this person wanted to offer any more protests. "Now what..." but she was interrupted again by a voice she recognised.  
  
"Amanda it's me," Mark said dropping the phony accent.  
  
Amanda almost dropped the phone in shock "Mark?" she asked her tone a mixture of relief and concern. "Is that you? Are you all right?"  
  
"I'm fine Amanda but listen to me it is very important that you don't tell anyone at all that you've heard from me. I just wanted to put your mind at rest about me, but no one else must know."  
  
Alison who had heard Mark's name and seen Amanda's shocked reaction had stood up and was now next to her trying to catch what was being said.  
  
Amanda looked at her. "Mark as I just told you Alison's here she's very worried about Steve?" She didn't add, she didn't have to, that she was worried too.  
  
Mark looked down at his sleeping son. "Steve's going to be just fine, although he will be very sore for a while. Jesse was right he had been shot too." He sighed, wishing he could tell his friend more but he did not dare stay on the line too long. There was an outside chance that it was being monitored. "Tell Alison and Jesse when he wakes up, but make sure no one else knows not even Nathan. I'm fairly sure that whatever is going on involves one of the NSA agents and until we've had time to figure this out we're all in danger. I wish I could talk more, How is Jesse?"  
  
"Fine the surgery went well." "That's great, tell him I'm thinking of him but I'm going to have to go now," Mark said regretfully.  
  
"Give our love to Steve," Amanda replied quickly. "And be careful." Amanda heard the line disconnect and hoped that Mark had heard the last of her reply, not that he was very good at following that particular piece of advice.  
  
There were tears glistening in her eyes, tears of relief. "They're both alive and well, " she said as she looked across at Alison and saw an expression that mirrored her own She put her arms around her and gave her a quick hug as they shared the release of fear and tension.  
  
"Thank God for that," Alison said pulling back and sinking back down on to the chair.  
  
Amanda looked at her watch. It was getting late. "I think we should both call this a night and get back to this fresh in the morning." She said suddenly feeling very tired.  
  
"I agree, now we know that Mark and Steve are going to be OK we'd both be better with a fresh eye and," Alison looked over at Jesse, "I think he's out for the count anyway."  
  
  
  
Mark put the cell phone down on the table and dropped back down into the chair. Talking to Amanda had made him feel better at least now she wouldn't be worried about him. He had thought the case through from every angle and until he could talk some more to Emma there wasn't much more he could do and he wasn't about to wake her.  
  
So he settled back, making himself as comfortable as possible. He had considered going back into the bedroom but did not want to leave Steve on his own just in case he needed him.  
  
It was dawn when noise from the kitchen woke him. Having checked on Steve, he went in to investigate. Emma was busy making coffee. She turned round and jumped as she spotted Mark. "Dr. Sloan, I'm sorry. Did I wake you?"  
  
"That's OK," he smiled at her, "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Not too bad thanks the sleep helped."  
  
"Good," He moved over to help her, "because you and I have a lot to talk about."  
  
Once they were both settled at the kitchen table with their coffee, Mark explained patiently why he believed that somewhere in her memory of events she held the key to solving the whole mystery.  
  
"I know that it's difficult for you but I need for you to answer some questions for me, about what happened on Saturday. Do you think you're up to it?"  
  
Emma looked deep into Mark's blue eyes, they weren't quite as bright as Steve's but they were just as sincere, just as intelligent and as happened with almost everyone who met him, Emma found herself trusting in the kindness that she saw there. "I'll try my best."  
  
So Mark began gently at first, taking her through the routine things of the day, getting up making breakfast, seeing her husband off to the meeting he had arranged. Emma didn't falter until she got to the point where the envelope was delivered.  
  
"I had had my suspicions anyway," she said quietly. "You know the sort of thing, I would answer the phone and the person at the other end would hang up. Richard would come home late and claim that he had had a meeting with someone from the NSA, but it wasn't until I opened that envelope and saw those photographs..."  
  
"Photographs?" Mark prompted gently as Emma hesitated.  
  
"They showed Richard with a young blonde embracing and then going into a hotel room." Emma managed to continue. She was trying hard to repress the accompanying emotions appreciating Mark's attempts to help. "After that I spent the remainder of the morning drinking and building myself up for when Richard came home. Before that I had been slightly worried about him. Once I saw those..... pictures. I no longer cared."  
  
Up to this point she had been staring at her coffee cup, now she looked up at Mark, "I wanted him to die Dr. Sloan. I truly hoped that something would go wrong and that he would get killed," She looked down again there were tears in her eyes. "When he did come home I was so angry." She paused again as she dealt with the memories.  
  
"Tell me exactly what happened. Everything you can remember." Mark said gently squeezing her hand. "It's important."  
  
Emma took a deep breath and did her best to recall the events of that morning  
  
  
  
She heard the car pull into the drive and stood waiting for him to enter.  
  
Richard entered quickly, he was in a panicked state anyway but his eyes widened in disbelief when the ceramic pot hit the door frame inches from his head.  
  
"How could you," Emma yelled accusingly at him. "You promised that you would never betray me again."  
  
"But I..." he barely got out before a second pot flew across the room. Instinctively he ducked and put his arm up to defend his head. Lucky that he did as the second pot shattered against his forearm.  
  
"You promised me," she stated again as though the breach of the promise was as bad as the betrayal itself.  
  
By now Richard was across the room as Emma hurled a torrent of abuse at him, calling him every name she could think of in an effort to assuage some of the pain.  
  
"Emma really I don't know what you're talking about. I haven't broken any promise I didn't..." He tried to take hold of her arms but she pulled away.  
  
"Don't lie to me I've seen the photographs. A pretty little blonde. Well I hope you enjoyed it." She almost spat the last words.  
  
"No Emma," Richard protested finally realising what his wife must have been shown. "That was all a cover for meeting the NSA. You don't understand.."  
  
"Oh that must have been really convenient for you. All of this cloak and dagger stuff coming along at just the right time. What a perfect excuse to fool the unsuspecting wife at home."  
  
"Emma I'm telling you I didn't, I haven't.."  
  
"Stop denying it."  
  
"But I..." Richard once again did not get to finish as Emma's anger spilled over and she came out with another torrent of names.  
  
"Emma listen to me," he finally said when she reached the end of her latest tirade. "Everything went wrong today I have to get out of here. They're going to be coming for me."  
  
At this point Emma lost control completely. What she read into Richard's words were that he was leaving her. No doubt to be with the woman in the photographs. "No I won't let you go I'll kill you first. You are married to me." She screamed almost hysterically.  
  
"No listen to me. You have to listen. If anything happens to me I've hidden the files in my favourite place. Remember that," Richard no longer waited for her to stop speaking he just tried to speak over her. It was clear that he was not going to get any rational sense out of her. So he just repeated his message hoping that she would remember.  
  
By now the argument had led them to the kitchen. "You can't leave me. I won't let you."  
  
  
  
Emma had done her best to recall the conversation in as much detail as she could although she did not tell Dr. Sloan all of the things she had called her husband but after that last comment, the one she had made in the kitchen, she stopped.  
  
"Go on," Mark urged.  
  
Emma looked him directly in the eye. "That's just it Dr. Sloan. I don't remember anything else. Nothing until I saw the knife and then I found Richard and.."  
  
"It's OK," Mark said, "I think you've remembered enough."  
  
"But I don't know if.."  
  
"If you killed him?" Mark finished for her. She nodded. Mark squeezed her hand again. "I know that you didn't. You'll just have to trust me on this one. I saw the results of the autopsy and without going in to detail there is no way that you were responsible for your husband's death."  
  
Now that Mark had met Emma he knew that she was not capable of the sort of slow torture that had been inflicted on her husband. Besides whereas a frenzied attack followed by traumatic amnesia might be a reasonable explanation, Mark could not believe that anyone could torture someone for several hours and then 'forget' about it. There had to be another explanation.  
  
Mark did not dwell on Richard's death he was more interested in a phrase Emma had remembered. "He said that he hid the files in his favourite place. Have you any idea where that could be?"  
  
Emma thought about it carefully. Richard had never been one for going out much. What would he describe as his favourite place? Somewhere in the house perhaps? Then a thought occurred to her. "His boat," she said eagerly. "Well not his boat exactly. It belongs to the company but he had exclusive use of it whilst in LA. He spent a lot of time down at the Marina. He loved it out on the water."  
  
"Then that sounds like a good place to start looking."  
  
  
  
Nathan had also been woken at dawn. Blearily he answered the ringing phone. "Nathan Turner,"  
  
"It's Dobbs," a female voice at the other end of the line stated without preamble. It certainly didn't sound like agent Dobbs.  
  
"What, who.." Nathan began trying to wipe the sleep out of his eyes.  
  
"Agent Dobbs disappeared last night." Stephanie replied. "We got an anonymous call to check out his apartment. When we got there it looked like someone had packed up in a hurry. His bank account has been emptied. So Dobbs is our man."  
  
Nathan had shaken off the last vestiges of sleep and was already getting dressed. "Where can I meet you?" She gave him the address. "I'll be right there." 


	19. CHAPTER19

Part 23 The Hunt.  
  
Both Mark and Emma went to freshen up before leaving to check out the Marina.. Mark did not like leaving Steve on his own but there was no indication that there was anything wrong and he could not let Emma go alone. Neither would they be able to sort this out and get into a position where he could get Steve to a hospital if he remained sitting around the cabin.  
  
Explaining that to Steve however was not going to be easy.  
  
Mark had to wake him up to change the dressing on the wound before they left, since he did not know how long they would be gone for. Once he had completed that task he sat down to explain to his son what he had found out from Emma and where they were going to go.  
  
"I'm feeling much better," Steve said, sitting up in an attempt to prove it. Ignoring the pain as his shoulder protested the movement he managed to cover any reaction to it. Although his movements were stiff. "I'll go with her. You stay here."  
  
Mark had known this was how Steve would react and part of him lamented not being able to leave him asleep, with a note next to him saying where he had gone. "Steve you are in no condition..."  
  
"But dad it could be dangerous," Steve interrupted. "If the people who shot at Jesse and me are watching this boat.."  
  
"Which is precisely why you are in no fit state to go. If there was trouble you are barely up to walking let alone running. Need I remind you that you have an open wound in your shoulder." Mark said reasonably  
  
Steve was not about to listen to rational argument, not where his father's safety was concerned. "Look I'm fine," he said, pushing himself to his feet. In his eagerness to prove to his father that he was OK, he stood far more quickly than his abused body would allow.  
  
"Steve," Mark shouted as Steve could not hold his balance and began to drop back. Mark managed to get enough of a hold to lower him gently back down. Damn, his son could be stubborn sometimes.  
  
"I'm OK," Steve protested weakly. "I just stood up too quickly."  
  
"Steve," his father said in an exacerbated tone. "Will you look at yourself. You're still in pain and you can barely stand. Please let me do this. You still need to rest."  
  
Steve waited for the room to stop spinning before he replied finally defeated. "OK but you have to promise me that at even the slightest sign of trouble..."  
  
"Then I will get straight out of there." Mark replied.  
  
"You'd better take my gun just in case," Steve suggested, not wanting his father to go into a potentially dangerous situation unarmed.  
  
Mark looked across at it, but shook his head. "It wouldn't be any use. You know I wouldn't be able to use it." It was true, on the very rare occasions when the situation had called for Mark to hold a weapon on somebody as a threat, he had been glad that his bluff had never been called as he doubted whether he could have pulled the trigger.  
  
"Emma then?" Steve suggested, but she shook her head remembering all too well the incident in the shopping mall. She was unwilling to face that again.  
  
"No, you keep it just in case anyone comes here. We'll be fine" Emma replied smiling.  
  
Mark moved the coffee table closer. "There is everything you need here." He pointed at the assortment of food, drinks and painkillers that he and Emma had assembled within easy reach for him. "And the cell phone is there in case you have problems"  
  
Steve looked at the table. "How long you planning to leave me here for, a month?" He asked, noting that his father had once again overdone the 'making sure his son had everything he needed' routine.  
  
Mark smiled, at least Steve had maintained his sense of humour. "We'll be back as soon as we can." he replied. "In the mean time you get some rest."  
  
"Guess that's all I can do," Steve replied settling back down. He allowed his father to almost reach the door before he called him "Dad," he waited for him to turn. "Be careful."  
  
Mark simply nodded and then followed Emma out of the door.  
  
  
  
Collin's sat at Baker's bedside watching the ventilator that was keeping his young colleague alive move up and down. Dammit why had he got the kid involved at all? If only he'd followed instructions and come straight from the office to the hotel, he would be fine now instead of fighting for his life. He punched the arm of the chair he was sitting at in frustration.  
  
The young Agent had been struck from behind with a blunt object with enough force to fracture his skull. Whoever had done it hadn't cared whether he lived or died.  
  
When Baker was over two hours late reporting in, Collins had had an alert put out for anyone matching his description through the LAPD. A sharp eyed officer had matched it to a John Doe brought in with head injuries and Collins had arrived at the hospital in the early hours of the morning, confirming the identity of the agent and using his position to get a full report.  
  
Realising that Baker had been found close to Dobbs' apartment he had arranged for an anonymous tip off to get the local agents to check Dobbs' place out. By dawn they had confirmed that Dobbs had gone.  
  
Collins had remained at the hospital. He was used to ordering agents into potentially dangerous situations and some of them got hurt, even killed, but somehow this seemed more personal. He let out a deep sigh and looked up at the early morning light coming in through the window. He would have to leave soon and help sort out the fallout that a rogue agent in one of the offices would cause, but not yet.  
  
He would allow himself a little while longer to sit in the peace of the early morning and pray that, whatever else happened, the young man in front of him would not die.  
  
  
  
Amanda got to the hospital early. She wanted to give Jesse the good news about Mark and Steve as soon as possible and besides, she wanted to spend a little time with him before she had to go and work. She had been somewhat neglecting her duties over the last couple of days and, now that she knew her friends were all right, she was determined to make it up to the people who had been helping cover for her.  
  
Alison arrived shortly after Amanda did and, much to Jesse's delight, she brought breakfast with her, including fresh coffee.  
  
Jesse had already been smiling broadly at the good news that Amanda had given him. Now he broke into an even wider grin. "Coffee thanks, the stuff they serve to patients in here tastes like dishwater."  
  
Alison handed it over along with the bag of food. "It's decaff of course," she said, smiling at Amanda and then back at Jesse. "I don't think you need any stimulants at the moment, if ever."  
  
"Hey I can't help my natural perkiness." Jesse replied. "It goes along with my boyish good looks."  
  
Alison sat down and the three of them chatted happily until Amanda got a page from Nathan. When she returned from taking the call she was smiling again. "Well it looks like we all might be closer to wrapping this thing up. One of the NSA agents working on the case has dropped out of sight. It looks like he may have been involved all along."  
  
"Which one?" Jesse asked.  
  
"Agent Dobbs." Amanda answered, "Now let's just hope Mark gets in touch so we can give him the good news and maybe get him and Steve back with us."  
  
  
  
Nathan followed Stephanie into the NSA offices. She had been very cooperative since they had met up over a couple of hours ago and Nathan got the impression that she was highly embarrassed that it was one of the NSA's own who had been involved all along. Together they had worked through everything that had happened and it looked like they could almost wrap the whole case up with everything neatly laid at Dobbs' door. He had had the means and opportunity to kill Agent Carlson and indeed even Richard Fielding.  
  
He hadn't actually picked Steele up to respond to the anonymous tip and go after Emma until shortly after the time Amanda had estimated that the last cut was inflicted on Fielding. So he did not have an alibi for either killing.  
  
Steele was sitting working at Dobbs' computer when they got inside. He turned to look at them as they entered and raised one eyebrow slightly at the presence of a police detective but said nothing.  
  
Stephanie moved over to him. "So have you figured out what he was working on before he left last night?" She asked leaning against the desk next to the screen.  
  
Steele remained seated but looked up at her. "From what I can tell he was checking into the Sloan's background again. Looking at known associates and any property they owned and, trust me, given the amount of time Dr. Mark Sloan has been at the top of his profession that is a very long list."  
  
"Still he must have figured that he had found something." Nathan stated. He had moved to stand behind the desk so that Steele had to look over the screen to see him and Stephanie had to turn round. They both looked at him questioningly.  
  
"Well why else choose now to disappear?" Nathan asked rhetorically. "Unless he thought he had figured out where Steve had taken Emma. Up to now he's been playing it very cool and he wasn't under any obvious threat. So why else would he choose now to expose himself? Unless he thought he had a lead on Emma and the missing files."  
  
Stephanie turned back to look at Steele waiting for his opinion.  
  
Steele shrugged. "I guess it makes sense."  
  
"In that case we need to figure out exactly where he has gone and quickly." Stephanie said. "He's got several hours head start on us and I don't rate Mrs. Fielding's or the Sloans' chances if he finds them. He's already killed two people that we know of."  
  
"I'll keep looking here." Steele suggested turning his attention back to the computer.  
  
"And I'll get back to the hospital and see if Amanda or Jesse can come up with anything. They know Mark and Steve better than anyone else."  
  
"I'll come with you," Stephanie said moving after Nathan who was already heading for the door. "Keep me posted if you come up with anything." she said, turning back towards Steele as she continued walking and then she was gone through the door.  
  
Emma and Mark arrived at the Marina almost an hour after leaving Steve and for most of that time Mark had been worrying about his son. Not that he had much to worry about now, he tried to reassure himself. Steve's temperature was almost back to normal, with his wound showing signs of improvement and he was safely back at the cabin. As long as no one knew he was there then he would be perfectly safe.  
  
He pulled his thoughts back to his own situation as Emma pulled the car into the parking lot and maneuvered into a space. Their first priority was to try to ensure that no one was watching the boat before they approached it. So they moved to a position where they got a view of as much of the Marina as possible and then simply stood and watched, looking for anything unusual. In fact looking for anyone behaving like they were!  
  
Eventually they decided that if there was anything to be seen then they weren't going to spot it and they headed down towards the boat.  
  
Amanda pulled up at the edge of the cordoned off area and climbed out of her car, pausing to put on her jacket and collect her bag she looked around for the officer she had been told would meet her at the scene.  
  
The young man in question was already on his way over to meet her accompanied by another man in his mid 30's wearing a hard hat and luminous jacket. "Hi," he said smiling and shaking her hand. "Officer Watts and this is Marlon Reece, site manager, he found the body."  
  
"Dr. Amanda Bentley," Amanda returned both the introduction and the handshake.  
  
"Mr. Reece here is going to guide us in." Officer Watts said gesturing for Amanda to follow as they ducked under the tape barrier and headed towards the building.  
  
Amanda had been paged to come out to this murder scene about half an hour earlier and had reluctantly left Alison and Jesse to finish breakfast and start checking on the background of Agent Dobbs. She had been preoccupied thinking about Mark and Steve on the way over, hoping that they would call again soon, but, having arrived at the scene, ever the professional, she focused her mind on the situation at hand.  
  
She was handed a hard hat to put on and couldn't help but notice all of the 'Danger' and 'Condemned' signs that became more dense as they approached the building.  
  
"We were about to bring the entire place down. The whole thing is rigged with explosives," Reece explained.  
  
"If they had blown them then it's doubtful that the body would have been found until the site was cleared, if then," Officer Watts added as they entered the building.  
  
"It's through here," Reece indicated a door to another room.  
  
Amanda noticed that some of the internal walls had been removed and explosives were packed around the pillars that had been left to support the floors above.  
  
"I was doing my final checks to make sure that the building was clear and noticed some carpet that I just didn't remember being there." Reece continued, talking as he led them deeper into the building. "Whoever put it there had done their best to make sure it wouldn't be noticed, They had even gone to the trouble of covering it in a layer of dust."  
  
"I've been in the room already," Watts confirmed, "And if Mr. Reece here hadn't pointed it out to me. I wouldn't have noticed anything out of place."  
  
"I don't suppose I would have spotted it either if I hadn't rigged the explosives in that room, so I was in there at least an hour only yesterday."  
  
Finally they entered the room containing the body. Amanda was a little relieved as all of the explosives around were making her feel distinctly nervous  
  
"As soon as I realised what it was I didn't touch anything else I just called you people in." Reece stated.  
  
"Well you did the right thing," Amanda said smiling at him. "Thank you for all your help. Mr. Reece." She then made her way over to the carpeted mass on the floor.  
  
Nathan and Stephanie arrived in Jesse's room. They had been disappointed to find that Amanda was out on a call but at least Jesse was alert and awake and might be able to help them. Jesse was alone, since Alison had succumbed to his little boy lost look and had gone to find him some more decent coffee on the understanding that it would have to be decaff. . Nathan updated Jesse on why they were there.  
  
"So you think there's a real chance that Dobbs has gone after Steve and Mark?" Jesse asked his eyes widening as Nathan finished his explanation.  
  
"If they're both with Mrs. Fielding then yes." Stephanie replied. "It's still our belief, and so presumably his, that Mrs. Fielding knows where the missing files are hidden. Remember they are worth a fortune to whoever has them."  
  
"So if you can come up with anything that might help us figure out where they might be." Nathan continued. "As I said the last thing Dobbs was looking at was Mark and Steve's acquaintances and friend's and any property they own. If you could think of anything like that that they may have mentioned, anyone you know who owns property that they don't or aren't living in?" Nathan looked at Jesse, not encouraged by his blank but somber expression. He shook his head.  
  
"No sorry, I am sure there are plenty but none that I can remember Steve or Mark telling me about." Jesse said frowning, there was something in his mind that was vying for attention, something someone had said to him but he couldn't quite pin the memory down.  
  
"Yes there's a long list we were just hoping you could help narrow it down for us. Are you sure you don't own a cabin in the woods that you aren't owning up to for tax purposes Jess?" Nathan asked half joking, half out of desperation for some sort of lead as time ticked on.  
  
That was it! The word 'cabin' triggered a flood of memory in Jesse's mind. He remembered the call that he'd taken still in a half drugged state the day before. "My God," he blurted out excitedly  
  
"Hey I was only joking," Nathan said worried by Jesse's suddenly agitated state.  
  
"No, you don't understand," Jesse could barely get the words out quickly enough. "I think I know where they are." And he went on to describe the telephone conversation.  
  
Nathan took out his cell phone. "I'll call it in and we'll get an address."  
  
"You can do that on the way," Stephanie said stepping back quickly. In her haste she didn't notice Jesse's IV stand directly behind her and knocked it to the floor. "I'm sorry," she said apologetically bending to pick it up. "I hope I haven't caused any damage."  
  
"No, it's fine," Jesse said . "Now get out of here."  
  
Neither Stephanie or Nathan needed telling twice as they rushed out of the door.  
  
  
  
Emma and Mark entered the Marina cautiously, still on the look out for any sign that there was anyone watching them or the boat, whilst trying to behave as naturally as possible. It wasn't easy and by the time they actually arrived at the correct slip both of them had racing hearts and quickened breathing.  
  
Mark climbed on to the deck first and moved cautiously towards the door to the cabin. He pushed it gently and to his surprise it opened. He would not need the key that Emma had retrieved for him. Even more cautious now, he pushed the door wide enough to enter and stepped inside.  
  
The loud gasp that he let out made Emma rush forwards to see what he had found. Mark stepped into the room so that she could get a look as he looked around in dismay. The inside of the boat was in exactly the same state as the beach house; every surface had been emptied, every drawer turned out, all of the soft furnishings ripped apart.  
  
A tear formed in Mark's eye as the sight bought back the painful memories of his wrecked home, something that would still have to be dealt with, and his heart sank as he realised that if the disc with the missing files had been here, then by now it was in the hands of whoever had trashed the place and with it their chances of bringing this case to a successful conclusion diminished considerably.  
  
  
  
Steve heard the car drawing up outside. He checked the clock on the wall. His father and Emma couldn't possibly be back from the Marina yet. He carefully reached for the gun from the table, thankful that, since he was left handed, it was his right shoulder that was injured.  
  
He stood slowly, remembering his earlier mistake and headed cautiously for the window, standing in much the same position as his father had the day before, but unlike his father Steve held his gun easily as one who was long practiced and comfortable with it. The car drew to a stop and Steve muscles tensed, from the make of car he knew it was definitely not his father. He waited for the doors to open.  
  
  
  
Alison reentered the room with two insulated cups and found a nurse attending to Jesse. "I'm sorry I'll come back," she said.  
  
"No come in," Jesse said quickly. "It's not a problem. My IV line just got knocked out and it needs fixing, besides, detective Turner and Agent Harris were just here and I've got lots to tell you."  
  
Alison carried on in to the room as the nurse excused herself to get a fresh dressing and sat down whilst Jesse filled her in on the latest developments.  
  
By the time the nurse came back to reattach the drip Alison already had the computer powered up and was checking the location of the Van Heus cabin.  
  
  
  
Steve relaxed a little as he recognised Nathan Turner getting out of the car, well if he had to be tracked down by someone, then at least it was a friendly face, but he did not recognise the extremely attractive young woman who seemed to glide out of the other side of the car. Probably someone from internal affairs. Steve grimaced at the thought of the questions he would have to answer at the hands of IA. Still, at least he would have a pleasant view whilst he was answering them and he was thankful that his father and Emma were not there. Maybe he could find some way to warn them not to come back to the cabin.  
  
He moved over to the table and picked up the cell phone and slipped it into his pocket and then headed for the door to let the officers in. Steve pulled the door open slightly and called out, knowing that both of the people outside would have their weapons trained on him, and not wishing to startle one of them into firing. He had put his own weapon down on the table when he had retrieved the phone.  
  
"It's lieutenant Steve Sloan. I'm alone and unarmed," Steve called out in a loud even voice. "I'm opening the door." Steve stepped out.  
  
Nathan and Stephanie kept their guns trained on him. "Not that I don't want to believe you," Nathan said looking at his normally fit and tanned colleague who somehow looked slightly stooped and pale. "but there could be someone inside who's got you covered."  
  
"I understand," Steve said, as the woman with Nathan moved over cautiously and then past him into the cabin, gun in front of her she efficiently checked all of the rooms for anyone hiding inside.  
  
"It's clear," she said dropping her gun to her side having checked the last room.  
  
"If you don't mind," Steve said, "I need to sit down." He made his way back to the couch and sank down gratefully on to it. Even standing for that brief period had exhausted him.  
  
  
  
Amanda pulled back the tarpaulin. The body was lying face down although from what she could see it was definitely a heavy set male and not very young. There was a huge exit wound in the back of the skull She checked for a pulse but the size of the wound and temperature of the skin told her she was wasting her time. Happy that she would be able to declare him dead at the scene, she rolled the body over slightly so that she could get a look at the face and gasped in shock.  
  
The young police officer looked at her. "Hey aren't you the Medical Examiner? I would have thought that you had seen someone shot in the head before." He said misinterpreting Amanda's reaction.  
  
Staring back up at her with soulless eyes and a neat bullet hole between them was the face of agent Dobbs.  
  
Recovering from the shock, she pulled out her cell phone and dialed Nathan's number but there was no answer.  
  
  
  
Nathan felt the impact briefly as pain exploded in his head moments before everything went black.  
  
Steve watched in horror unable to get a warning out quickly enough as the woman with Nathan struck him visciously over the back of the head and he dropped to the floor unconscious before he hit the ground. She then turned the gun round and leveled it at Steve's chest.  
  
"Good morning lieutenant Sloan, since Detective Turner here didn't get around to introductions allow me to introduce myself." Stephanie said in a polite tone completely incongruous with the circumstances. "My name is Stephanie Harris." She looked down at Nathan's prone form, "and I believe I just retired from the NSA."  
  
Nathan's cell phone began to ring.  
  
  
  
Getting no answer Amanda finally hung up and rang the beach house number, knowing that it would be diverted to Jesse's room. It was quicker than going through the hospital switchboard.  
  
A rather frantic Alison answered the phone. "Amanda, I'm sorry I can't really talk," she said as Amanda identified herself. "It's Jesse, he passed out about five minutes ago and he's struggling to breathe." Alison moved out of the way as another nurse pushed past placing an oxygen mask over Jesse's face as he fought for each breath.  
  
Amanda put two and two together instantly. "Alison," she almost shouted, "Don't hang up I know what's wrong. Pull the IV line out of his arm right now and put the doctor on and don't take no for an answer or Jesse could die."  
  
Alison moved back over to the bed and yanked the IV line from Jesse's arm.  
  
"What the hell...." the doctor who was working on Jesse said but Alison did not give him time to finish.  
  
"Take this call," Alison said authoritatively. "It's Dr. Bentley, she knows what's wrong." She held out the phone." If you don't he'll die," She repeated Amanda's words hoping that they would have the same effect on the doctor as they had on her.  
  
They did. He took the phone. Amanda prayed that her diagnosis was not too late.  
  
  
  
"Now lieutenant perhaps you'd like to tell me the location of Mrs. Fielding and your father," Stephanie said. "Or shall I just shoot you and wait for them to return." 


	20. CHAPTER20

Part 24 Not Again!  
  
Steve looked directly at the barrel of the gun and attempted to keep his voice calm as he replied. "That's the second time someone from the NSA has threatened to shoot me," he said "Is there something in your training that tells you that's the best way to get information? By blowing people's brains out?"  
  
"Sarcasm in the face of death? I'm impressed lieutenant." The gun did not waver as Stephanie spoke. "Looks like what I've read about you is true, but you need to understand that I am not bluffing. I have already killed at least five people to get to those files and I will not hesitate to kill again." She stepped closer. "And if it hadn't been for your interference then I probably would have them by now. So I would positively enjoy killing you after the trouble you have caused me." Her tone was light her movements graceful and yet she somehow came across as intimidating as any six foot thug that Steve had ever been called on to face. "So I ask you again lieutenant. Where are Mrs. Fielding and your father?"  
  
"They left a couple of hours ago and they're not coming back. My father is taking Mrs. Fielding to somewhere safe." Steve replied not showing the fear that he felt. There was a cold detached air about this woman, he did not doubt her ability to take pleasure in killing  
  
"Really?" Stephanie closed the last of the distance. She inspected Steve's bruised cheek, pressing the tip of the gun barrel against it. Steve flinched slightly.  
  
"Yes," he said staring up into Stephanie's eyes; they were cold, there was no life in them. He pointed to the table, "They left me enough to keep me going until I felt better, then I was going to turn myself in for questioning, once they had a head start."  
  
Stephanie ran the gun down the side of Steve's cheek as she looked down and inspected the dressing that she could see under Steve's unbuttoned shirt "I see," she said slowly, drawing out the words, using the barrel of the gun to push the shirt further apart. The touch was light, as that of a lover moving clothing aside to expose muscular flesh but the cold steel gently sliding over his skin held an icy menace far worse than harsh movements. She watched his face, clearly amused by his reaction.  
  
If Steve had been in better shape he might have made an attempt to go for the gun, but the way he was feeling he knew that his reflexes were not up to it. Stephanie had her finger on the trigger and any false moves on his part would probably be suicidal.  
  
Abruptly Stephanie struck him on the right shoulder. The blow was on the collar bone and not directly on the wound but it was enough to send a fireball of agony shooting out. Steve yelled out before he managed to bite back the reaction and he was left gasping in pain as Stephanie backed off watching him intently.  
  
"Nice try lieutenant but I'm not buying it." She leveled the gun at him once more. "From what I've read about your father he wouldn't leave you alone with a wound like that for long.. So I ask you again. Where are they and how long before they return?"  
  
"Go to Hell." Steve gasped out as he tried to steady his breathing.  
  
"Oh, trust me lieutenant, that's not where I'm going, at least not yet but by the time I have finished with you, you may wish you were there." She sat in an armchair, "Until then I think I will just sit and wait. They'll be back soon enough and no one else knows that Detective Turner and I came here."  
  
Steve decided to see if he could get some answers about what was going on, besides he needed a distraction. "So how did you find me?" He asked. Whilst he was speaking he slipped his hand into his pocket, finding the cell phone, he began pressing the necessary buttons to redial the last number called, grateful that he had brought the same make as his own so that he was familiar with the keypad.  
  
"Your friend Doctor Travis told us you were here. Some lawyer rang him looking for your father so that he could ask if he knew anything about this cabin being used."  
  
"But I thought you just said.."  
  
"That no one knows we came here. I should have modified it to no one living." She looked at her watch. "Given the dose I used your good friend Dr. Travis should be dead by now." She grinned. "Cyanide is a most effective poison you know."  
  
Steve felt sick. It couldn't be, she had to be lying, and yet every instinct in him told him that she was telling the truth, and if that were the case then she had poisoned Jesse so that he couldn't tell anyone else where they were and that meant that Jesse was probably..... Steve could not finish the thought instead he tried to focus on his own situation,  
  
His only hope and, more importantly, the only hope for Emma and his father and the young detective lying only a few feet away, was that the call he had just made would be answered by someone who would realise what was going on. Someone who would send help. Otherwise the woman sitting across from him would kill all of them in an attempt to get what she wanted.  
  
  
  
The doctor handed the phone back to Alison who automatically put it back to her ear but the line was already dead. Amanda had hung up and was on her way back to the hospital.  
  
Alison let the phone fall to her side and stood and watched helplessly as Jesse's condition continued to deteriorate rapidly. One of the nurses had been dispatched at a run for the cyanide antidote, whilst the doctor and two other nurses fought to keep Jesse breathing. By the time the nurse returned he could no longer breath on his own and they were using a bag to force oxygen into his lungs.  
  
It was another fifteen minutes of frantic activity before they were ready to move him. Alison started to follow but the doctor told her to wait. He would come back and talk to her when he could. Alison hung up the phone which, up to that point, she had gripped tightly in her hand. It took her three attempts to reseat it on it's cradle, then she sank down into the chair and simply stared at the place where Jesse's bed had been. How could circumstances change so quickly?  
  
She was lost in thought, and it took a few moments for it to penetrate that the phone was ringing again. Thinking that it may be Amanda ringing for an update she picked it up and was about to speak when she heard slightly muffled voices. Her eyes widened as she recognised them and listened to the contents of the conversation.  
  
  
  
Steve needed to get a conversation going so that if anyone answered his call they would have a chance of figuring out what was happening. "You can sit here as long as you like, My father and Emma, Mrs. Fielding, won't be coming back," he said trying to sound confident.  
  
"So you say," Stephanie replied, "Of course it would have been so much easier if you had all been here when detective Turner and I arrived." She was now resting her gun on her lap but it was still pointed at Steve. "I would have taken Mrs. Fielding with me whilst the good detective escorted you and your father back to town. Then we would have had a little accident."  
  
"You had it all worked out didn't you?" Steve asked bitterly.  
  
"Oh, several times and each time lieutenant, someone has ruined my plans. First Richard Fielding. He hid the files so that I couldn't just take them when I killed Agent Carlson. You see I had already set it up so that it would look like Mrs. Fielding had killed her husband in a fit of jealous rage. The files would never be found and with Richard Fielding dead and no other witnesses, I would have been free and clear." She paused, "Richard hiding the files was unfortunate."  
  
Steve picked up on the fact that Stephanie was enjoying boasting to her own ingenuity. He decided to play up to it both for whoever was on the other end of the line, if anyone, and to satisfy his own curiosity "So how did you set her up?" He asked.  
  
"Oh that was easy," Stephanie replied, enjoying talking about herself. She had time to waste and Sloan wasn't going to survive the day so she could tell him anything that he wanted to know. "I replaced her vitamin tablets with something that makes you a little more paranoid and unstable, and made a few telephone calls, hanging up when she answered. Then, I simply set up Richard so that he would meet me in a motel room to discuss the case. I convinced him it would look less suspicious if we behaved like lovers. A blonde wig and a well placed photographer were all I needed. Once the prints were sent to her, her imagination did the rest."  
  
"But how did you convince her that she had killed him?" Steve asked  
  
"When you work for the NSA you gain all sorts of knowledge and contacts. I was already waiting for Richard when he arrived home for the inevitable row with his wife. When they entered the kitchen I used an anaesthetic gas to knock them both out. The original plan was just to kill Richard and leave, but I had to modify it. I woke him up and attempted to get him to tell me where he had hidden the files, but all credit to him. It took him three hours before he passed out for the final time and he wouldn't talk."  
  
Steve felt the bile rise in his throat in revulsion. He found it difficult to believe that someone could talk about torturing someone to death in such a casual tone. Even in his job he had met few people who were truly psychotic.  
  
"So, I modified my original plan slightly," Stephanie continued. "I dressed Mrs. Fielding in the dress I had been wearing, one of hers, it was nicely covered in blood. Gave her something to wake her up then threw the knife down in front of her and slipped away." Her tone became a little more angry. "Those fools Dobbs and Steele had the simple task of going to the house, finding the body and arresting her and they managed to mess it up." Her eyes narrowed as she looked across at Steve. "And then we come to your interference lieutenant. Even those two imbeciles would have managed to capture Mrs. Fielding if it hadn't been for you."  
  
"I'm glad my efforts weren't wasted," Steve replied sarcastically.  
  
Stephanie adjusted her position to get more comfortable. "I was hoping that they would just shoot you, if you interfered. You see I didn't tell them you were a police officer when I sent them out to your location that night. They only discovered that later when they ran your license plate. Imagine their surprise." She smiled again at the thought, her anger seemed to have dissipated a little. "I had to switch plans again." She resumed her account. "I began to set up Dobbs to take the fall for me in case anything else went wrong, which thanks to you it did?"  
  
"Like I say, happy to help." Steve knew that he was pushing his luck but, as he saw it at the moment, he didn't have a lot to lose.  
  
Stephanie's voice took on a hard edge. "I started following Detective Turner's movements, once I realised he had an inside involvement with your father and friends, I knew that if anyone was going to help me find you it would be him." She gestured around the room. "So here we are. You've led me a merry dance for the past few days and once again you have upset my plans, I had expected Mrs. Fielding to be here with you, things would have been so much easier. You see everyone is out looking for agent Dobbs. They think he is the one responsible for everything."  
  
"But they won't find him." Steve said intuitively assessing the situation, "because you've already killed him."  
  
"Well done lieutenant! Go to the top of the class." Stephanie replied matching his earlier sarcasm. "His body should be buried under several thousand tonnes of rubble by now. By the time people figure out it was me and not him I should be long gone." She paused and fixed Steve with her gaze. "Of course his death wouldn't have been necessary if it hadn't been for your disappearing act." She paused deliberately to let the implication sink in. "I have to say that you made a good job of it, but for one small slip we wouldn't have found you for several more days at least."  
  
"Without Nathan's help you wouldn't have found me at all." Steve was, he knew being deliberately antagonistic, but he couldn't help himself.  
  
Once again Stephanie dismissed his reply, changing the tack to the conversation. "So I've answered all of your questions, now it's your turn to satisfy my curiosity. Why did you help Mrs. Emma Fielding?" She paused momentarily, "Who is she to you?"  
  
"She's an old friend." Steve stated quietly.  
  
Stephanie shook her head. "No it's more than that. You've risked everything for her," she asserted, "I was candid with you detective now it's your turn."  
  
"I was in love with her once," Steve replied hesitantly. "It was a long time ago," he continued dismissively.  
  
Stephanie thought for a moment. "She was married 29 years, and you don't strike me as the type to have an affair with a married woman. Twenty nine years," she repeated, "that's an awful long time to have been carrying a torch for someone." She watched his reaction knowing that she had struck a nerve. "My God, you still love her don't you?"  
  
The whole line of questioning had set Steve's mind off on an emotional rollercoaster, without really considering who he was talking to, he answered the question that he had been avoiding thinking about. "Yes," he replied his voice barely above a whisper.  
  
Stephanie leaned back into the chair not sure whether to laugh or cry, all of her carefully laid plans thwarted by a love affair that should have ended more than quarter of a century ago  
  
  
  
Alison had listened in a dazed state to the whole of the conversation. She was already in a state of shock from watching what had happened to Jesse, the saga that was unraveling at the other end of the phone held her fascinated and horrified at the same time. Any part of her brain capable of making her take action and do something about the situation was temporarily disengaged as she focused all of her attention on listening.  
  
The last revelation sent her mind reeling further, she had not really thought until now about how Steve had ended up involved in this situation, she had just been worried about getting him back safely.  
  
She was so lost in thought that she was totally oblivious when the door of the room opened, but as Amanda rushed in, the movement caught her attention and she turned to face her.  
  
Amanda came to an abrupt stop. "Oh my God," she yelled, looking at the space where the bed belonged "Jesse, tell me I'm not too late." Alison's shocked and pale appearance did little to decrease her panic. The volume of her voice rose further "Where is he?"  
  
Alison responded quickly, Amanda's rising panic helping to force her to focus, dropping the phone down slightly from her ear. "It's all right, he's still alive." She replied, placing her other hand on Amanda's arm reassuringly. "They've taken him up to ICU. They'll let us know when he's settled,"  
  
"Thank god," Amanda said calming slightly  
  
At this point Alison remembered the phone in her hand. "Oh, God Steve!"  
  
Amanda opened her mouth to ask a question but Alison put her finger on her lips to silence her and lifted the phone back to her ear.  
  
  
  
Unfortunately Amanda's arrival had coincided with a lull in the conversation. Her loud entreaties for information had been made almost directly next to the handset and even though the phone was still in Steve's pocket. Stephanie picked up on the muffled sound. "What was that?" She asked suspiciously.  
  
"What?" Steve asked innocently.  
  
"That sound?" She was already on her feet and moving across the small gap between herself and Steve. "What have you got in your pockets?"  
  
"Nothing," Steve answered, although he knew already that his cause was lost.  
  
Stephanie's next action came as a complete shock as she pulled back the hand holding the gun and struck Steve clean across the cheekbone with it. The move was so fast that it snapped his head backwards and he collapsed back on to the pillows as his already injured cheek exploded in pain.  
  
Stephanie calmly searched Steve's pockets as he lay too stunned to move, groaning slightly. "You really should take me a little more seriously lieutenant," she said as she pulled out the cell phone. "Damn," she cursed as she realised that the phone was still connected. She hit the disconnect and then threw it into the far wall, venting her anger and frustration. It hit hard and pieces flew off in all directions..  
  
She turned back to Steve. Grabbing hold of his hair, she pulled him to a sitting position. "How long has that been connected? How long have they been listening for?"  
  
Steve was still trying to deal with the shock and pain from the blow. As Stephanie's fingers twisted in his hair pulling his skin taught the pain increased. He struggled to focus.  
  
"How long?" Stephanie spat pulling Steve's hair back and pushing the barrel of the gun into his throat for emphasis.  
  
Even in his confused state Steve could feel the anger emanating from the woman who held him. The cold steel against his throat made his stomach twist in fear. He needed to give an answer or he would probably die now. He tried to speak but his throat muscles were constricted and his mouth dry. He tried again. "Since you knocked Nathan out." He managed to croak out. "They have heard everything." Steve waited for her reaction aware that he may have just signed his own death warrant but he had not had time to weigh up the pro's and cons of telling the truth over a judicious lie.  
  
Stephanie cursed again, using her grip on Steve's hair to throw him back down against the cushions. She stood up and began to pace up and down. She had to think and quickly.  
  
Steve lay back and tried to recover his senses, breathing as slowly and evenly as he could as the throbbing pain slowly subsided. As soon as he could, he focused his attention on the agitated former agent, wondering what her next move would be.  
  
  
  
Alison listened as Stephanie asked Steve about the noise. She heard the dull thud of the blow, Steve's gasp of pain and Stephanie cursing just before the line went dead.  
  
She dropped her arm and looked up at Amanda ashen faced. "It's agent Harris, has been all along and she's got Steve."  
  
Amanda's expression was one of confusion.  
  
"I'll explain it all in a few minutes right now Steve needs help. I've got the address here. She indicated her laptop."  
  
Amanda did not need telling twice. She took the phone and dialed. "Hello Captain Newman, it's Dr. Amanda Bentley, I have someone here who knows where Steve is," and she handed the phone to Alison.  
  
Alison did not waste words, telling the police Captain the minimum he needed to know to dispatch help for Steve. She promised to explain everything once Steve was safe.  
  
Amanda had listened wide eyed to what little information Alison had had to impart, now there was little either woman could do but wait for news.  
  
  
  
Stephanie turned halfway through her line of pacing and moved over to Nathan's prone form. She checked him first, but the young detective was still unconscious, then she removed his handcuffs from his belt and tossed them on to the couch next to Steve. "Put those on."  
  
Steve made no move to follow her instructions.  
  
"Look," she said, the anger still there, "I quite like this guy, so I was going to leave him alive, however, if you are going to be uncooperative..." She pointed her gun at Nathan's head.  
  
Steve moved to pick up the handcuffs locking them around his left wrist first he then went to clip them around his right.  
  
"No," Stephanie said sharply, "behind you."  
  
Reluctantly Steve slowly pushed himself to his feet and tried in vain to put his right arm behind his back. Even reaching his left around as far as he could there was no way his right arm would cooperate, beads of sweat formed on his forehead from the pain and exertion of trying. Eventually he gave up. He put his hand back round the front and clipped his wrists together. "That's the best I can do." He stated. "If it's not good enough then you will have to shoot me."  
  
"Ah but I didn't threaten to shoot you lieutenant." she cocked the hammer on the pistol and pointed it down at Nathan. "I threatened to shoot him," and she pulled the trigger.  
  
"No," Steve cried out in anguish moving forward, his heart racing as a surge of adrenaline pushed out into his system. He moved towards the young man on the floor, almost too afraid to look, afraid that his defiance had just cost him his life, but Stephanie had shifted her aim at the last moment and there was a neat gouge where the bullet had harmlessly hit the wooden floor a few inches from Nathan's head.  
  
Steve sank down to his knees next to his young colleague and looked up at Stephanie. She was watching him. Steve realised that she was watching his reactions, taking pleasure from it. He whispered a curse. He was revising his view, this woman was way beyond psychotic.  
  
She raised the gun so that it was pointing at his head again. "Next time I tell you to do something I expect you to do exactly what I tell you. Now get up"  
  
Steve obeyed without comment.  
  
"Thanks to your interference once again there will have to be a change of plan, but I don't think you are going to like it. Now move." She gestured towards the door. "And don't try to delay us in any way or I will come back and kill your young friend here."  
  
Once outside by the car, Stephanie pushed him to the back and opened the trunk. "Get in."  
  
"But.. "Steve started to protest. Forcing him to travel any distance in the trunk of a car with the fumes and lack of oxygen, he knew would cause his condition to deteriorate, but Stephanie made a gesture back towards the house, her meaning clear. He bit back his protest and trying his best not to land on his bad shoulder he climbed in. He watched silently as the rectangle of daylight rapidly disappeared and the trunk clicked shut leaving him in oppressive heat and darkness as he struggled to find the least uncomfortable position in the cramped space.  
  
By the time he heard the engine start up he was already sweating. As the car moved off and noxious vapours started to filter in to the already tainted air he prayed that they were not going too far. He closed his eyes tightly attempting to ward off the claustrophobia of being shut in such a small space and mercifully passed out. His last conscious thought was a silent prayer of thanks that at least his actions meant that his father and Emma would be safe."  
  
  
  
Mark and Emma pulled on to the side track that led to the cabin, unknowingly only minutes after Stephanie had pulled off heading for the freeway. They had driven much of the way in silence, the disappointment of finding the wrecked boat and of possibly having lost the files, weighing heavily on both their minds.  
  
They arrived at the cabin and as soon as he was out of the car, Mark shouted, "Steve, it's only us we're back." He did not want his son to worry nor to get up to check on the identity of those in the car.  
  
Mark then waited for Emma to come round and they headed up on to the porch together. Mark pushed the door open, another greeting ready, but it died on his lips as he took in the interior of the cabin.  
  
There was no sign of Steve but there was a figure lying injured on the floor. His medical instincts took over and he rushed over to the prone form, recognising him as he got closer he gasped, "Nathan," and knelt by his side to check his condition.  
  
Emma left the doctor to his work and began searching the rest of the cabin for some sign of Steve, calling his name as she went. She returned moments later. "Steve's not here," she stated numbly, "and I found these," she held up the fragments of the shattered cell phone.  
  
Mark looked up finding it difficult to digest the news. He wasn't sure that he could cope with Steve's disappearance for a second time. He pulled himself back together and focused his attention back on the young detective. He would have to deal with what had happened to his son once he had helped his patient.. "Get me my medical bag," he said, "He's got a nasty gash in the back of his head and at the very least a concussion. We need to get him to hospital."  
  
Emma seemed frightened by the idea. "But what about.."  
  
"Yes, I know," Mark said, "we're still in danger, but it's obvious that someone has found this place and whoever it is has taken Steve. Staying here is no longer an option and we need help. Besides, this young man has head injuries, if there are any complications he could die." Mark stood and put his hands on her shoulders to reassure her. "Don't worry, I won't let the NSA take you."  
  
Emma nodded. "OK," she said quietly.  
  
Mark knelt down again and searched Nathan's pockets finding his cell phone. He dialed 911.  
  
The phone had barely connected when they heard the helicopter. Mark hit the disconnect and headed for the window.  
  
"This is the police come out with your hands up." An authoritative voice blasted from the speakers under the chopper.  
  
Mark and Emma knew that they had little choice but to comply. They headed out of the door, their hands raised above their heads as the helicopter hovered just a few feet above the ground. Two heavily armed officers outfitted in heavy kevlar suits dropped down and ran over to them. With guns aimed at them, the pair felt themselves being dragged across to the parked car and pushed down behind the vehicle so that it provided cover from the cabin. Once they were there, the two officers trained their guns back at the house as Captain Newman himself alighted from the helicopter which had now set down some twenty feet away. Keeping low the Captain ran across to join them.  
  
The Captain was almost as relieved to see Mark as Mark was to see him, but there was no time for social niceties. "Are Steve and Agent Harris still in there?" He asked.  
  
"No there was only us and Detective Turner," Mark said, not wasting time on questions for the time being.  
  
"Damn," the Captain cursed punching the ground in frustration at being too late. He signaled for the SWAT team that he had brought with him to stand down.  
  
Mark looked at the Captain. "I'm sure that you have almost as many questions as I do," he said, "but first we need to get Detective Turner to hospital."  
  
"We'll take him in the helicopter," the Captain replied, the two men knew each other well enough to trust the others judgment. "We can exchange information on the way."  
  
  
  
Stephanie pulled the car over to the side of the deserted road and climbed out. Opening the trunk she checked on the condition of her prisoner. Finding that he was unconscious she went to retrieve the oxygen cylinder from the back seat. She placed it next to Steve and opened the valve. It would not do for him to suffocate before she had what she needed.  
  
This had of course all been set up for Mrs. Fielding. Stephanie tried not to think about the fact that she had had to change her plans once again as it would make her angry. Possibly angry enough just to kill Steve Sloan there and then and she needed to be patient. There would be time for that later.  
  
  
  
Alison and Amanda sat in the ICU waiting room, having been informed that the doctor was still with Jesse. They had been able to ascertain that he was stable but in a coma. They were still running tests to try to establish just how much permanent damage had been done.  
  
Amanda had fixed some coffee and she now waited patiently for Alison to fill her in on the rest of the conversation that she had overheard.  
  
Neither of them took any notice of the man on the next table who was drinking coffee alone, until he gasped at something Alison had said.  
  
They both turned to look at him. "Forgive me for listening," he said, "but my name is Collins and I am a Field Director for the NSA and I believe it's my agents that you are talking about."  
  
Alison and Amanda barely had time to recover from that shock when Mark arrived accompanied by Captain Newman and Emma Fielding. Nathan was being looked after in the ER.  
  
Amanda jumped up and ran over to him, "Mark," she called out delightedly, momentarily caring about nothing else as she put her arms around him and gave him a hug. At least one of her friends was all right.  
  
"Very touching," Captain Newman said, "but we've got a lot to sort out."  
  
"I agree," Collins said, holding up his ID, "and I think introductions are in order first."  
  
Once the introductions were over the next hour was taken up with a mass debrief as everyone filled in their own particular part of the tale that had brought them all together. The ICU waiting room substituting once again for an interview room.  
  
"So," Captain Newman concluded, "there are APB's out on both lieutenant Sloan and Agent Harris."  
  
"But we still have no idea where the missing files are." Collins added.  
  
"Well I'm going to check on Jesse, and Nathan" Amanda said, she felt mentally drained from the amount of information she had taken in and needed to do something. She had just got up to leave the room, when Mark's pager went off, it was an internal number so he moved to a phone in the corner and answered.  
  
"Dr. Mark Sloan," a pause, "Give me one minute, I'll take it in my office." Mark hung up and headed for the door at a run. "It's her," he stated, "There's a speakerphone in my office" and without waiting to see if the others were following he was through the door and gone.  
  
  
  
Steve had woken still in the trunk of the car but the lid was up and he could see daylight filtering through. He coughed and spluttered slightly and realised that an oxygen mask had been placed over his mouth and nose to revive him. For a moment, he had a glimmer of hope that he had been rescued but it was quashed as he looked up into Stephanie's cold eyes staring down dispassionately at him.  
  
For the next twenty minutes he was afloat in a sea of pain as he tried to force cramped and abused muscles to obey him. All the time Stephanie threatened with more blows to increase the agony if he did not seem to be trying to do as she asked. He climbed out of the back of the car and was shoved into an old warehouse building and then into one of the offices.  
  
Eventually he was forced into a chair and strapped to it securely so that he could not move. "Now," Agent Harris said quietly putting her face level with his. "Let's see if we can talk to your beloved father. See if we can't do a deal" She had been monitoring the police band and knew exactly where to find him. She dialed the number for community general.  
  
She was on hold for around five minutes and was beginning to lose her patience when a voice as familiar to Steve as his own answered. "Dr. Mark Sloan,"  
  
"Ah Dr. Sloan, I have your son here." She looked at Steve. "Say something."  
  
Steve wet his lips "Dad I.." was all he got out before the phone was pulled away and a hand placed over his mouth.  
  
"Steve!" Mark replied anxiously, fear in his voice.  
  
"Now Dr. Sloan, you have something I want and I have something you want. A fair exchange, your son for the files Richard Fielding hid."  
  
"But, I don't have them," Mark replied wondering desperately how he could get this woman to believe that.  
  
"In that case you will have to find them and quickly Dr. Sloan. I am afraid I don't have a lot of patience."  
  
Steve watched wide eyed as Stephanie pulled out a long hunting knife. She ran the tip of the blade slowly down his chest.  
  
"You did see what I did to Mr. Fielding, didn't you, a very slow way to die," she continued mockingly. "I estimate it took around three hours but I can go a little more slowly."  
  
Steve braced himself for the inevitable cut, knowing that Stephanie wanted him to cry out, he was determined not to give her the satisfaction.  
  
As the blade dug in to the muscle of his chest. Steve bit down hard and closed his eyes against the latest agony. When he opened them again he looked up at Stephanie who was watching him smiling. Abruptly she twisted the blade and he could not help himself he gasped in pain. Her smile broadened.  
  
Everyone in the room heard the cry, heard the suffering that it contained. There were four people in the room who loved Steve Sloan to some degree and all of them felt the pain with him but none more so than his father.  
  
"No, Please," Mark cried out in anguish.  
  
"Find me the files," Stephanie stated. "I'll call back in an hour with instructions." And the line went dead. 


	21. CHAPTER21

Part 25 The Final Act.  
  
As the phone disengaged Mark felt his knees buckle and he began to drop towards the floor. Two strong pairs of hands caught him, but he did not even notice as they guided him to his chair and set him down in it.  
  
His emotions had been strong when Steve had been missing, the fear that his son may be hurt or even dying whilst he was unable to help had been overwhelming. Finding his son close to death and having to operate to keep him alive had filled him with an apprehension and dread that had almost robbed him of his ability to function, but both situations paled into insignificance compared to what he now faced.  
  
Listening to his son being tortured, knowing what this woman had done to Richard Fielding was too much for him to bear, Thoughts and emotions tumbled through his brain so rapidly that his mind shut off from his senses. He saw nothing and heard nothing as he was helped into his chair. Too distressed to contemplate what agonies were being inflicted on his son.  
  
Amanda, despite her own reactions to what she had just heard, was at Mark's side in an instant, crouching so that her head was level with his. Collins and Newman, who had helped Mark to his seat, stepped back to let her in.  
  
She stared into Mark's unseeing eyes, realising that he was probably going into shock. "Mark," she said firmly, "Can you hear me?" She got no response so she tried again repeating the phrases. When there was still no response she stood and looked at the two law enforcement agents. "I think he may be going into shock," she said, "Can you help me get him to the ER."  
  
"Of course," Newman said, Collins nodded.  
  
"No." They all looked down at Mark who had unexpectedly spoken. It took him a moment to say anything else and all in the room watched quietly as he engaged in an inner struggle that was reflected in the lines on his face.  
  
Mark fought his way back from the brink of despair, one thought pulling him through as he attempted to clear his mind and focus. Steve was still alive, and whilst he was alive there was still hope. He concentrated on that, pushed what he had heard to the back of his mind, suppressing the images of Steve in pain that it invoked..  
  
Finally he was able to speak again. He looked up first at Amanda and then at the others in the room. He took a deep breath. "Steve needs my help, he needs all of our help if we are going to get him out of this," he said quietly.  
  
He adjusted his position in the chair. All eyes were firmly fixed on him, he had everyone's full attention.. "We have less than an hour to figure out where those files are," he continued "Any ideas?"  
  
Steve looked up with pain filled eyes into those of his tormentor. She had pulled the knife clear and was watching the blood run down his chest, her expression one of serenity.  
  
"You know," she said with a wistfulness in her voice that belied the situation. "I almost wish there was some information I needed to extract from you." She turned the knife around watching the blood run to the end. "I failed with Richard, I wonder if I could get you to break."  
  
She turned the knife and dragged it across his collar bone. Satisfied by the noise as it scraped the bone itself. Steve grimaced with the initial strike but then, using all his reserves of strength, he turned his face to a mask, determined not to let this woman take satisfaction in his suffering.  
  
She watched him intently. "I have a feeling though that it would be even more difficult with you and, unfortunately, I just don't have the time."  
  
"What a shame," Steve said, still for some reason unable to prevent himself from using sarcasm that could only anger the woman in front of him and, if it were possible, bring him more pain. "My heart bleeds for you," he continued. Perhaps it was the only way that he could show her that she was not in total control, not yet. She hadn't broken him yet.  
  
Stephanie smiled again, "and it would have been so interesting." She plunged the knife into the muscle at the top of Steve's right arm and he could not stop the cry that was ripped from his throat, nor the movement of his arm as he tried to pull away, the rope biting into his wrist. The helplessness of his position never more clear.  
  
He took a deep breath and relaxed his arm. Then he lifted his head and almost panted out the words. "It... wouldn't matter... how.. much time...you... had," he said defiantly.  
  
Stephanie pulled the knife back and placing her finger on the tip she spun it around watching it as if fascinated by it. She then looked deep into Steve's eyes. "Maybe I'll find out if that's true when I come back." The words sent a chill down Steve's spine. "Especially if your father doesn't bring the files with him. I wonder how much it would take to persuade him to tell me where they were."  
  
Steve glared up at her. "You're really sick."  
  
She turned her attention back to the knife, carefully and deliberately she wiped the blood off across Steve's shirt, making him think that at any moment she was going to turn it and cut him again. The action almost as cruel as the cuts.  
  
She sighed heavily and reluctantly stepped back replacing the knife in its sheath. "Well I have things to prepare." She stated matter of factly. She started to leave the room. "Don't go anywhere will you." She called back over her shoulder as she headed for the door.  
  
Steve let his face relax, let his emotions show, The pain carving deep lines across his forehead and hollowing out his cheeks. He drew in long deep breaths, concentrating with each one on relaxing. He needed to clear his mind so that he could try to figure out what he could do. He had no doubt that his father would come after him and, when he did, he would be in grave danger, a danger that Steve had tried so hard to protect him from. He had to try and do something about the situation before that happened.  
  
He looked down at the ropes binding his arms to the chair. If only he could get his left arm free.  
  
  
  
Alison looked across at Mrs. Emma Fielding, she had been watching her for much of the last hour, but had tried to avoid being too obvious. The woman was undoubtedly beautiful, Alison had to admit, although she estimated that she was about ten years older than herself.  
  
Alison had realised from what she already knew and from what she had learned in the debriefing that Steve had risked his career and his life to save this woman and she could not help the feeling of jealousy that that engendered in her. A feeling that she would have had even if she had not overheard the conversation that Steve had had with Stephanie.  
  
Now, as she looked across again at the attractive woman who was sitting almost opposite, she heard those words again 'My God you still love her don't you?' and, although the reply had been whispered so faintly as to nearly be inaudible, she knew she hadn't imagined it. Steve had replied with a 'Yes'. That single word had cut like a knife. Steve had helped this woman not through duty or obligation, but because he loved her and where did that leave his relationship with her?  
  
Alison tried, not for the first time in the last hour, to push all of these thoughts and emotions to the back of her mind. None of this was important at the moment. What was important was that they got Steve back with them safe and well. She could deal with the rest of it later.  
  
If Mark could pull himself together and focus after all that they had just heard then surely she could do the same. She looked across at Emma. "You say that Richard told you he hid the files in his favourite place?" She asked.  
  
Emma nodded. She too had been studying, as surreptitiously as possible, the woman who had been introduced as Steve's girlfriend. She came across as beautiful, intelligent, personable and strong. In fact the perfect match for Steve Sloan. Emma reciprocated the feelings of jealousy, knowing that Steve had possibly found in Alison, somebody that he could love.  
  
"Then can you think of anywhere else, apart from the boat, that he may have described in that way?" Amanda picked up on the questioning.  
  
Emma turned to look at her tears of frustration forming in her eyes. "I'm sorry, no. There was nowhere else he went."  
  
"How did he spend most of his time?" Mark asked.  
  
"When he wasn't working?" Emma asked rhetorically. She thought a little. "He used to sit for hours in his office on his computer."  
  
"On the Internet?" Alison asked a hint of excitement building in her voice.  
  
"Yes," Emma replied, "At least I think so."  
  
"Then that's it." Alison said eagerly. "That's where he hid the files. Dr. Sloan do you..."  
  
But Mark was already logging on to his office computer. He moved aside offering the keyboard to Alison who had barely sat down before her fingers were dancing across the keys.  
  
Captain Newman coughed to get Mark's attention away from the keyboard, as he watched Alison expertly work through different screens. "Dr. Sloan, I'm going to go back to the station, put together a team ready for when we hear from this madwoman again. I'll be back as soon as I can."  
  
"No," Collins all but shouted. "I don't think.." but Newman was ready for a confrontation. He had almost been expecting it ever since he had found out Collins' identity. A jurisdictional argument seemed inevitable, but he was damned if he was going to leave the rescue of one of his officers to the NSA. Especially since it was one of their agents that was holding, worse than that, torturing his man.  
  
"I don't care what you think," he snapped back. "That's one of my men out there and I have every intention of ensuring I get him back."  
  
"Agreed," Collins said in a conciliatory tone, "but I know how this woman has been trained, I know how she's been taught to operate and, more importantly, I can tell you what resources she's taken with her."  
  
"I'm listening," Jack Newman said in a less defensive tone.  
  
"Our best chance is a small team of crack men who can make their way into her location without being seen," he paused. Mark now had his attention on their conversation, so he tried to word his next sentences carefully. "Assuming that we can find her, if we go in with a large police presence then she will kill lieutenant Sloan. With the number of people she has killed already she really has nothing to lose. Our best chance is to have a few men, preferably trained in counter insurgence techniques. We need to get in and take her out before she knows we are there."  
  
Newman looked at him. "That would be highly irregular and against every procedure.."  
  
"I know," Collins said. "It's breaking with my procedures too, but everything I've heard and read over the last few days tells me that we should do everything in our power to save lieutenant Sloan and worry about the paperwork later."  
  
Newman looked at him, he was normally a stickler for the rule book, in fact it was his job to be like that, on the other hand everything Collins was saying made sense.  
  
"I'll take full responsibility, I do have the authority, technically, to take over. So if anything goes wrong I'll take the flak." Collins added weight to his argument. He had already lost one good agent, possibly two if Baker did not recover. He did not want Steve Sloan's death on his conscience as well. He would do whatever was necessary to help get him back and take Agent Harris down.  
  
"Please," Mark said, adding a slightly more emotional appeal to the argument. "If it will help to save Steve..."  
  
Newman held up his hands in defeat. "OK, I'll do it your way. I have one or two favours that I can call in. There are a couple of sharpshooters on the force who fit the bill and I'll come along myself."  
  
Collins looked him up and down. "Ex -Seal right?' he said pointing at the Captain.  
  
Newman looked a little surprised, he had indeed been a Navy Seal before leaving to join the force but it had been a long time ago, he wondered just how rusty he was. "Yes," he replied, "but how did..."  
  
"Guess it takes one to know one." Collins interrupted. "Come on we have," he looked at his watch, "less than fifty minutes to set this thing up." The two men left the room.  
  
Mark, Amanda and Emma all exchanged glances as the two men left, they had all been intent on the exchange and now were left with nothing to do except lose themselves in their own thoughts, but down that line lay nothing but worry and despair.  
  
Amanda stood up, she couldn't help with the search for files and she needed to do something. "I was going to check on Jesse before the phone call," she said quietly. "If you need me I'll be in his room." She moved towards the door.  
  
Mark looked across at her, with everything that had been happening to Steve he had once again had his concerns for his young friend eclipsed and he felt a slight twinge of guilt over it. Jesse was as close to him as anyone, apart from Steve, could be and Mark had not really had chance to digest properly what had happened to him.  
  
It suddenly hit him that he might lose them both, Steve and Jesse. There was no guarantee that Jesse would come out of the coma that he had fallen in to. In fact he was only alive at all because machines were keeping him that way. He was torn once again by his commitments to two of the people who mattered most to him.  
  
Alison had briefly stopped her typing and was watching him. "It's all right Dr. Sloan, I don't need your help for the next few minutes, in fact Emma is going to be of the most use to me since she knew her husband best." She smiled, a soft mournful smile. "You go and see Dr. Travis we can manage for a little while."  
  
"Thank you," Mark said quietly and joined Amanda as she left the room.  
  
Emma stood and headed over to the computer screen. She pulled up a chair and sat down next to Alison. "Tell me how I can help." She said determinedly.  
  
  
  
Mark and Amanda walked down the corridor towards the ICU with similar feelings of trepidation as they had had the last time. It seemed so unfair that Jesse had come through one life threatening situation only to be plunged into another.  
  
Both of them tried to avoid thinking of the possible complications that could now arise. Even if he pulled out of the coma, Jesse was now much more susceptible to infections, even pneumonia and his injury was going to take even longer to heal.  
  
If he did not pull out of the coma... Neither of them cold cope with the thought of losing him any more now than they had only a few days before.  
  
"Have you seen him since.." Mark began.  
  
"No," Amanda answered, not needing the rest of the question. "The doctor was with him when I arrived back at the hospital and you arrived shortly after that."  
  
They stopped at the nurses station to get an update and then braced themselves as they headed towards his room. When he had last been in ICU it had been to monitor his condition. All the signs then had been positive and still it had been hard to walk in and see him attached to tubes and monitors.  
  
Now the prognosis was uncertain, and the tubes and monitors were literally keeping him alive and it was so much harder. For Amanda those last few steps might as well have been taken in lead filled shoes. She felt Mark grip her arm. Not sure who was supporting who, they walked into the room together.  
  
Amanda gasped at the sight of the small still form on the bed. She had never seen Jesse so pale and even though she had known what to expect, the sight of the tube attached to the ventilator helping him to breath made her stomach knot in anxiety. She turned and looked into the eyes of her old friend beside her and saw the same deep concern reflected there. "It's so unfair," she said quietly and buried her head in his shoulder, letting the tears flow.  
  
Mark wrapped his arms around her fighting back tears of his own. Jesse was too gifted a doctor and too good a friend to be suffering like this. Amanda was right the world was not a fair place. This had happened to Jesse only because he cared enough to help.  
  
Amanda allowed the loss of control only for a few moments. She was not here to feel sorry for herself, she was there for Jesse. She pulled back from Mark and wiped the tears from her eyes. "I'm sorry it's just the shock of seeing him like this again so soon," she said quietly.  
  
"I know." Mark said.  
  
Amanda walked over and sat down taking Jesse's hand in hers. "I don't know if you can hear me or not," She said softly, her voice cracking slightly with the emotion. "Mark's here with me Jess but he can't stop. He's got to go and help Steve," She looked up at Mark and gave him a slight smile, "but he wants you to know that he's thinking about you and waiting for you to get better. We all are." The last few words were almost strangled off as Amanda struggled to maintain her emotional control.  
  
Mark squeezed her shoulder and she put her hand up to take hold of his, appreciating the gesture.  
  
She took a deep breath and continued to speak her voice getting stronger with each sentence as she began a narrative of what they had found out in the last few hours. She dropped her hand back down taking Jesse's hand in both of hers, the physical connection important to her.  
  
Mark listened quietly for a few minutes before reluctantly taking his leave, knowing that Jesse was in good hands. He squeezed her shoulder again and indicated that he had to go. Amanda smiled at him and waved slightly but did not break her narrative. She had to believe that at some level Jesse could hear her voice and if he could then it might help to bring him back to them.  
  
Mark walked out down the corridor, his fragile emotions were already being torn apart by what was happening to Steve, seeing Jesse like that just adding to the emotional burden. He mentally shook himself, he needed to be strong. When this was all over he could deal with the emotions but not now, now he needed to go and help Steve.  
  
He tried to focus his mind on the problem at hand but it was getting more and more difficult. He knew that he was being pushed to the limits of his emotional endurance and beyond.  
  
Steve had tried unsuccessfully to loosen the ropes holding his arms to the chair. In fact all he had achieved was some painful rubbing of the skin around his wrists. There was not enough slack to get him free. He looked down and tried to assess his situation again.  
  
He was tied in a wooden armchair, both his wrists had been tied to the arms and a rope was secured around his chest holding him firmly to the back but Stephanie had not secured his legs to the chair. Presumably, since he had been barely able to stand when she had pushed him into the room, she had deemed it unnecessary, and that could be just the mistake that Steve needed.  
  
Slowly, painfully he leant forward, pushing himself to his feet awkwardly, as he stood half bent bringing the chair with him. Standing up at all would have been difficult. To stand to such an arduous position took every ounce of his determination not to black out.  
  
He stood and allowed the now familiar nausea and dizziness to pass. And then scanned his surroundings for what he needed. There were two doorways to the room, both of them open. He chose the widest which, fortunately, also gave him the best angle of attack and took several deep breaths.  
  
Using all of the energy that he could muster he charged at the doorway turning to angle the back of the chair so that it struck hard. There was a gratifying splintering of wood which was accompanied by an explosion of pain, as the jarring of the impact sent shock waves through already torn and bleeding muscles and Steve fell to the ground, once again unconscious.  
  
  
  
Stephanie drove through downtown LA, lamenting the fact that she had not had more time to 'work' on her prisoner, but she needed to get herself into position so that she could check that Dr. Sloan was alone when he brought her the files. The most risk in any hostage situation was taken when picking up whatever the ransom items were, and Stephanie had chosen to move things along quickly to give the opposition as little time as possible to set up their own plans. Unfortunately this also meant that she had very little time.  
  
She intended to lure Steve's father back to the warehouse where she had left Steve, it would be easier to get him to hand the information over if he could see that his son was still alive. Then she would kill them both and make her escape, but before any of that could happen she would have to make sure that Dr. Sloan was neither bugged, nor tailed to her location.  
  
She parked the car in the parking lot and checked the sensors. Anyone getting into this vehicle wearing any sorts of electronic surveillance device would set alarm bells off. She got out of the vehicle and jumped into the cab which she had waiting for her and headed for her second location.  
  
  
  
Mark reentered his office still struggling to maintain emotional control. He was greeted by two worried smiles as Emma and Alison looked up at him.  
  
"How's Jesse?" Alison asked.  
  
"No change, I'm afraid, he's still in a coma," Mark replied quietly as he moved into the room.  
  
"Oh," Alison said, her smile fading slightly. She had hoped for something positive. She turned her attention back to the task at hand. "I think we've made some progress." She gestured at the computer screen and Mark moved round to look at it.  
  
"With Emma's help I've managed to access her husband's Internet history and I've got a list of the web sites which he is responsible for maintaining. He has five of them." Alison explained, unable, despite the situation to keep the excitement out of her voice, she smiled up at Mark, "and one of them is called 'My_favorite_place.com.'"  
  
"I don't understand how this is going to help us find the files." Mark stated. "Do you expect something on the website to give us a clue where to look?"  
  
"That's just it, if you know what you are doing and I have every reason to believe from what Emma has told me that Richard did, then you can hide files of any size on your web pages."  
  
"But then anyone could have access to them, couldn't they?" Mark asked, still not convinced.  
  
"Only if you know what you are looking for. It's very easy to conceal a link to another site which you then restrict access to by a password."  
  
Alison turned back to the screen as the web page came up. "All we have to do is scan the page for a hidden link." As she spoke she expertly traced the mouse across the screen avoiding any obvious links until she hit one in the bottom left hand corner of the page. She clicked the mouse and was rewarded with a screen requesting a password. "OK Emma, he would have used something that he would expect you to know in case anything went wrong. Any suggestions?" She asked turning to look at her.  
  
Emma thought for a few moments, "Try Sarah," she said, "or Tim. Those were the names we were going to use if we ever had children, but we somehow never..." She stopped speaking, not wishing to open that particular emotional can of worms.  
  
Alison tried both names individually but neither worked, then she put them both in together. The password was accepted and the screen changed abruptly. "Oh my God," Alison said quietly when she saw what came up. "Have you any idea what we have here?"  
  
Both Mark and Emma shook their heads.  
  
"These are encryption algorithms for data files. With these you could gain access to literally thousands of Top Secret encrypted government files and even if the government knew you had it, it would take them years to re- encrypt the files that this gives you access to. There would be very little they could do to stop you."  
  
Mark let out a breath. "No wonder there is so much money at stake on this." He looked back at the screen. "Can you make me a copy."  
  
Alison looked at him, tears in her eyes. "Mark we can't let this fall into enemy hands. It could do too much damage."  
  
"And I don't intend to," Mark said resolutely, "but if I don't at least have the real files with me, then it may cost Steve his life and I'm not prepared to let that happen."  
  
Alison thought about it only for an instant. "I'll make that copy."  
  
  
  
Steve opened his eyes and tried to focus on his surroundings, he was completely disoriented and it took him a few moments to even realise that he was lying on the floor. Every part of him hurt, with sensations that ranged from dull aches to screaming agony and it was hard to think about anything other than the pain, but slowly his mind cleared. There was something that he needed to do, something that he knew he could not achieve lying here.  
  
Tentatively he lifted his head slightly and looked down. He was lying in some sort of dilapidated office, how? And then he remembered he had been brought here, tortured here, he tried to shut off the sensations of terror that that brought to his mind. He had been tied to a chair and helpless whilst Stephanie Harris had cut deep into his flesh. With the memory the pain returned and he had to take a deep breath. No, these were memories he could not dwell on. He needed to focus on why he was lying on the floor.  
  
He tried to lift himself further so that he could get to a sitting position, as he did so he realised that his arms were not free, as he moved his left arm, a large piece of wood came with it. He stared at it for a moment and then like a flood the rest of his memory returned.  
  
Gritting his teeth against further pain he swung his legs round and managed to get himself to a position where he was leaning against the wall, having to scoot along slightly using his legs and his good arm to avoid sitting on splintered fragments of chair.  
  
He had achieved his aim, the chair had shattered leaving him tied only to pieces of it. He took several deep breaths to calm himself from the exertion and then pulled the pieces of wood out from the ropes secured around his wrists. He wiped the sweat out of his eyes and pushed his hair back.  
  
Now he had to try to figure out his next move. If Stephanie hadn't heard him smashing the chair then it was a fair bet that she was not in the building. Which meant what? That she had gone for good?  
  
No, the only reason she had left him alive was to use him as a bargaining tool to get the files she needed. He was her insurance to ensure that his father handed the files over. She would bring him back here and when she had what she wanted she would kill them both.  
  
Steve now had a choice did he try to get away and find help in the hope that he could stop Mark coming for him, or did he stay here and try to help his dad out when he arrived.  
  
Steve realised that he had no idea how long he had been unconscious for, his father could be here in the next few minutes for all he knew and that meant that he had no choice. Using the wall for support he started to push himself to his feet. He would have to find himself some sort, any sort of weapon, and somewhere to hide.  
  
  
  
Collins knocked on the door to Mark's office, they had less than ten minutes before Stephanie was due to call back. Without waiting for an answer he and Captain Newman walked in they were both wearing black combat fatigues and flak jackets.  
  
"Hi Any Progress?" Jack Newman asked without preamble.  
  
Mark held up a CD triumphantly. "We have the files."  
  
"Well done," Collins congratulated. "You've managed to do in less than an hour what no one else could do in days."  
  
"We had a powerful incentive," Mark replied ruefully. Then he allowed himself a small smile as he indicated Alison "Plus a very intelligent not to mention highly expert computer genius on our side. How have you done?"  
  
"Everything's set up, we just have one problem" Collins replied.  
  
"What's that?" Mark asked  
  
"We need to figure out exactly where she is keeping Steve. I got Agent Steele to do some checking whilst we were getting things ready and Agent Harris has taken enough technology to spot any sort of electronic surveillance device a mile away." Collins shifted uncomfortably. "With her training she would easily be able to spot if you were being tailed, so once she has you out there we won't be able to follow you."  
  
Mark swallowed. "Then I'll just have to hand over the files and hope that she let's Steve go."  
  
Collins shook his head. "You've seen what she's capable of, that's simply not going to happen."  
  
"So what are we going to do?" Newman asked beginning to wonder if he should have put so much faith in Collins.  
  
Collins turned to look at Alison. "Hopefully we are going to use that young woman's expertise along with my security clearances to find out where she is." He looked back at Captain Newman and Mark. "Harris has only had a few hours to set this up herself. So I'm willing to bet my life that she has used Agency resources. Every field agent of her rank has access to 'safe houses' which only they and their immediate superiors have access to information on. Fortunately for you I'm her immediate superior so I should be able to trace those locations. She doesn't know that I'm involved yet so she won't be expecting anyone to find her.  
  
"But if there is more than one of them. How will we know which one to go to?" Newman asked.  
  
"That's where Miss Porter comes in. She should be able to check computer logs for activity about each of the sites. We can use that information to work out which is most likely."  
  
"Let's get on with it then," Alison said checking her watch. "She'll be calling any minute."  
  
"Yes but first," Collins took out an earpiece connected to a small box, He motioned to Mark. "Here let me put this on you."  
  
Mark looked at the wire, he had worn something similar before. "But I thought you said that she would spot something like this a mile away?"  
  
"Yes but she'd be suspicious if you went out there with nothing. We let her find this and make you dispose of it,"  
  
Mark smiled, "And it will help put her guard down."  
  
"Exactly." Collins replied.  
  
The phone rang. Everyone in the room stopped and stared at it. It took Mark a moment to gather himself before he moved over to answer it. He swallowed hard, knowing that there was the possibility that he would have to listen to Steve being hurt again. Then he hit the answer button. "Hello Dr. Sloan," he said.  
  
Stephanie's voice crackled into life over the speaker. "Ah Dr. Sloan. Do you have the files for me?'  
  
Mark answered trying to keep the shake out of his voice. "Yes, is my son all right?"  
  
Stephanie allowed a slight laugh. "Well that's all relative doctor, but if you mean is he still alive? For the moment yes. If you want to keep him that way I want you to follow my instructions to the letter. Drive to the following address and await further instructions."  
  
Mark wrote the address of a downtown parking lot onto a notepad. "Let me speak to my son please?" he asked imploringly  
  
"Follow the instructions and you will see him soon enough." Stephanie answered coldly. "I'll expect you at the lot in around 16 minutes and I know you won't be stupid enough to bring a tail." The line went dead.  
  
Mark just stood for a few moments staring at the phone, partly relieved that he had not had to listen to his son suffer any more, partly sorrowful that he had not heard the reassurance of Steve's voice so that he knew for definite that he was still alive.  
  
It was Newman who moved first. "Sixteen minutes is barely enough time to cover the distance. You'd better get going."  
  
Collins had moved over to the computer and had started typing, He looked up. "Remember keep her guessing as to whether you have the discs on you or not until she leads you to Steve. Hopefully by that time we'll be there and waiting."  
  
Mark smiled and nodded. He did not consider what he would do if Collins was wrong or his plan did not work. If the backup did not arrive then he knew he would just have to play it by ear. He was glad Amanda wasn't around, she would have objected strongly to him going through with this, given that he would be on his own,  
  
He headed for the door glancing back just before he went through he saw Collins and Alison concentrating hard on the computer screen.  
  
  
  
Steve felt a slight chill run through his body, he shivered and leant back heavily against the wall.  
  
He had managed to find himself a good vantage point where he could remain hidden from view. The factory consisted of a large machine room from which most of the machinery had been moved long ago, leaving a large empty room with a ceiling two stories high. On the ground level there were rooms leading off down one of the long sides and these had accompanying offices built above them on the upper floor with stairs leading up at either end and an open corridor with a low wall that stretched for the length of the building. From the upper corridor you could look down at the whole of the machine room.  
  
At one end the corridor also stretched along the width of the building and here there was a large selection of junction boxes and electrical housings built out of the wall. It was here that Steve had chosen to hide. From his position he got a fair view of the entrances and exits to the building and he would be difficult to spot unless you went past him and turned round. He had also managed to find himself a length of metal pipe to use as a weapon.  
  
Satisfied with what he had accomplished he settled back to assess his own condition. The physical exertion of getting himself up here had taken a lot out of him and he was fairly sure from the temperature of his skin that, without the antibiotics, his fever was beginning to return. He also knew that he had lost a fair amount of blood from the three knife wounds that Stephanie had inflicted, although they were only flesh wounds designed for pain not to kill, they were all still bleeding. He allowed himself to sink to a sitting position and set about putting pressure on the wounds as best he could.  
  
Apart from that all he could do was wait and try to stay alert so that when Stephanie returned he would hopefully be in a position to defend himself.  
  
  
  
Mark drove as quickly as he dared through the early afternoon traffic. He needed to get to the parking lot as quickly as he could but he couldn't risk being stopped by the police just in case Stephanie was watching him. He knew that it was a foolish idea to believe that she would be on his tail the whole time, but he also knew that she would be around at some point on his journey. She would need to check for herself that he was alone.  
  
The journey took around fifteen minutes but it seemed like forever. Mark tried hard to concentrate on the traffic but his thoughts kept drifting to his son and the cry of pain that he had heard over the phone. He knew his son well, knew what a high pain threshold he had and knew that he would have been determined not to cry out. Whatever Stephanie had done to him must have been agonisingly painful and Mark could not help but suffer with his son over and over again as the memory repeated itself in his head.  
  
Arriving in the lot Mark sat wondering how he would be contacted and how long he would have to wait. It turned out not to be long, as a sharp knock on his side window made him jump. Mark turned to see a boy of around 12 staring at him. He lowered his window.  
  
"Is your name Mark Sloan?" the boy asked.  
  
"Yes it is." Mark replied, realising with some surprise that this must be his contact.  
  
"Lady told me to give you this," he said lifting up an envelope. "Said you'd give me twenty bucks."  
  
Somewhat bemused Mark reached into his pocket and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. He exchanged it with the cautious boy who did not release the envelope until he had a firm grasp of the money.  
  
"Thanks," the boy said and ran off.  
  
Mark looked down at the envelope, Stephanie had obviously promised the boy the money to ensure that he would stick around. Inside he found a set of car keys and nothing else. No instructions, he tore the envelope open to check but it was empty. He climbed out of his vehicle and looked around. Then he began walking around the lot, time was of the essence and he needed to figure out which car the keys belonged to.  
  
Almost kicking himself when he realised what he was supposed to do, Mark started to walk methodically up and down the rows pressing the button on the remote key until he came across the car whose lights blinked in response to his signal. He moved over to it quickly and climbed in.  
  
Once inside he looked around. There was a cell phone on the seat which rang on cue. He answered it.  
  
"Well Dr. Sloan I was beginning to wonder if you were going to figure that one out or not." Stephanie's voice answered brightly.  
  
Mark was not in the mood for small talk. "What do you want me to do next?" he asked.  
  
"First I want you to lose the wire Dr. Sloan, I did tell you not to wear one didn't I?"  
  
Mark climbed out of the car and removed the hidden earpiece and accompanying box and dropped it onto the ground. Then he climbed back into the vehicle.  
  
"Thank you, now listen carefully for your next destination..."  
  
  
  
"We just lost Sloan's signal," Newman said moving across the room to where Alison and Collins were busy working on the computer. "That means he's on his own and we," he emphasised the word, "have very little time."  
  
"Good job that we have our location then." Newman said standing up and stretching his back. "It's an abandoned factory."  
  
"Then what are we waiting for?" Newman asked but neither man gave a verbal answer they just turned and rushed out of the door.  
  
Alison stared at the screen for a couple of minutes. She'd been so caught up in the activity of the last couple of hours that there had been no time to react emotionally, in fact, she had actively suppressed it. Now that there was nothing more she could do but wait, she felt an overwhelming urge to just sit and cry for a while, had she been alone she would probably have done just that, but she was not alone.  
  
She turned to face the other woman in the room and realised that Emma was probably in a worse state than she was. After all she had lost her husband and had been living through a nightmare worse than anyone for the last few days.  
  
Emma returned her gaze and for a few moments there was an awkward silence between the two women, both still unsure of how to deal with the other.  
  
It was Alison who spoke. "I don't know about you but I could use some coffee Care to join me?"  
  
Emma smiled at her. "That would be nice, thanks" and the two women who loved Steve Sloan left the room together taking some comfort in each others company.  
  
Mark cursed as he found the envelope with yet another location to drive to. This was the fifth so far and he didn't seem to be getting any closer to finding Steve. He felt like he had covered half of LA on some bizarre treasure hunt, his next clue leading him to a locker at the bus station.  
  
He remembered watching Steve act as the runner for a hostage drop once before. He had never quite appreciated just how frustrating it was for the person being sent from stop to stop, without seemingly getting anywhere, until now. He climbed back into the car and checked his watch, once again he would be lucky to keep to the time scale he had been set.  
  
Steve heard the car drawing up outside the building and forced his tired muscles to respond as he attempted as quietly as possible to push himself to his feet. He risked a glance across to the entrance door and spotted Stephanie entering the factory and then he pulled back into his concealed position in case she should glance up.  
  
She was back which would mean that at any minute she could be coming looking for him. If he hadn't already been sweating, he would have broken out into one as he considered the possibility of her finding him. He gripped the iron bar more tightly.  
  
"OK Sloan I'm back," he heard her call out. "Time to continue where we left off." He knew that she was calling to him like this to increase his apprehension. She expected him to still be tied up and the clear implication of her words, that she was going to inflict more pain, could only have been intended to increase his mental suffering and, even though he was not waiting where she expected, this cruel taunt still had some effect, as Steve's anxiety levels increased. He leant back against the cold brick and swallowed trying to push down the fear that even this woman's voice could now instill.  
  
Stephanie was quite pleased with herself when she returned to the warehouse. She was certain that Dr. Sloan was alone and could not be followed. He should be arriving in a few minutes when he had picked up the last address on his tour of the city, the address that would bring him here.  
  
For once everything seemed to be going to plan. She would show Sloan to his father and get the files. She might even get a chance to enjoy herself when killing them as an added bonus for all the trouble they had caused her.  
  
As she approached the room where she had left Steve she could not help herself, she shouted out a taunt just so that he would know what was coming. He had had nearly two hours to sit and contemplate his fate and she wondered if he would be any less defiant.  
  
Her initial reaction when she entered the room and, instead of seeing a bound and helpless prisoner, she saw shards of wood strewn across the floor was one of shock. This quickly turned to anger as she realised that her plans had once again been ruined. This was becoming an all too familiar situation and this time when she found Sloan she would make sure that he suffered.  
  
Allowing her frustration and anger to come out in a screeching yell, she moved through the room and checked the rooms beyond but Steve was not there. She moved back into the factory. There were too many offices to search she would have to wait until she had dealt with Steve's father who would be arriving soon.  
  
She stood and cleared her mind, deciding what to do she ran back to her car and retrieved a rifle from the trunk and then headed back into the factory, climbing the steps two at a time she took up a vantage point watching the entrance.  
  
Mark arrived at the factory and saw a car parked by one of the entrances. He climbed out blinking in the bright sunlight, as it contrasted with the tinted interior of the car. He walked over to the entrance and stepped inside.  
  
The factory interior was dim and it took time for Mark's eyes to adjust back again. He gazed into the room unable to make anything out clearly. "OK, I'm here and I've brought the files."  
  
There was no answer.  
  
"I'm here for my son," he shouted out into the cavernous room still unable to make out anything in the shadows.  
  
Stephanie pointed the rifle and took aim. Without Steve she had no bargaining chips to use on the old Doctor so she would just have to take the risk that Mark was carrying the files with him. She would shoot him and take the discs off the corpse. Then she would look for Steve Sloan.  
  
Steve peered out from his vantage point and realised to his horror what Stephanie was about to do. There was no chance to warn his father. Even if he shouted a warning his dad was too far out in the open and would not make it to cover before Stephanie could shoot him.  
  
Steve looked around frantically he needed a diversion, a big one and quickly. Without really considering his actions Steve wrenched open the junction box nearest to him. He took a step back and threw the iron bar hard into the box.  
  
The resulting explosion of energy and sparks, thundered around the empty factory, reverberating off the walls and making the windows shake.  
  
Startled Stephanie turned her whole body and the rifle in the direction of the explosion. She spotted Steve and in a single action aimed and fired.  
  
Steve, however, had been way to close when the box exploded and he was flung backwards across the parapet where he landed heavily on his back.  
  
Mark looked up and saw Steve, yelling his name in a voice that conveyed the fear and anguish of a father..  
  
Stephanie was momentarily confused she could no longer see Steve but his father was standing looking up at where his son had fallen. The old fool didn't even have the sense to move or seek cover. She turned her rifle round and pointed it at Mark.  
  
Four shots rang out.  
  
  
  
Jesse found himself unable to breath, there was something in his throat and he could not seem to get enough air, he began to choke, he lifted his hand up to his mouth. There was something there. It was stopping him breathing he started to panic and then he heard Amanda's soft voice, talking to him, reassuring him. He opened his eyes and looked up into hers and saw that she was smiling down at him and he started to relax.  
  
He felt her remove whatever was in his throat and he took the deepest breath that he could. He looked around and took his bearings. He smiled at her and tried to speak but his mouth was too dry, she gave him some ice chips and he sucked on them slowly. "You know," he said croakily. "If you're always going to be around when I wake up," he took a deep breath, "Then we're going to have to get married."  
  
Amanda couldn't help herself , she began to laugh and cry at the same time. Jesse was awake and if he could joke like that then he was suffering none of the problems that could be associated with coma. "Oh Jess," she said with all the love of a true friend but he had already drifted off again.  
  
  
  
Mark took the stairs two at a time with a speed and agility that belied his age. His only thought was to get to Steve. He did not spare a second glance for Stephanie's body which lay staring at the ceiling with sightless eyes.  
  
He ran along to where he had seen his son fall. He stopped by Steve's side and dropped to his knees and even as he assessed his son's condition the tears began to fall. First he checked for a pulse. It was there but weak and thready. Then he started cataloguing the injuries.  
  
As he looked at Steve's battered and bruised body he barely knew where to start. There didn't seem to be anywhere where he could touch his son without causing him pain. He looked at the fresh cuts that Stephanie had inflicted on him, momentarily tracing his finger over the ragged edges of the wound where she had twisted the knife. Then he snapped himself back. Steve needed treatment not sympathy.  
  
Steve's hands had second degree electrical burns on them and if Steve's rib hadn't been broken before, the force of the impact had broken it now. He was just lucky that the shock hadn't stopped his heart. His breathing was rapid and Mark knew that his son was going into shock.  
  
"Steve, can you hear me?" He said, knowing that trying to get Steve conscious was the only defense he had until the EMT's arrived, if only he had brought his bag. "Steve!" he repeated desperately, but there was no response.  
  
He became vaguely aware of other people around him. A hand was placed on his shoulder. "Mark," Jack Newman said, "How is he?"  
  
Mark looked up. "We need to get him to a hospital now."  
  
"Don't worry," Newman said gently. "We had the Medivac chopper on standby just out of hearing range of this place. They'll be here any minute."  
  
Mark turned his attention back to his son. "Steve, come on I need you to wake up for me." he tried again to rouse him. This time he got a slight movement, encouraged he carried on "That's it Steve wake up."  
  
Steve's eyes fluttered open, wide and crystal blue, "Dad?"  
  
Mark leant forward so that Steve could see him properly. "I'm here son."  
  
"Thank god you're OK." Steve said and his eyes closed again.  
  
Mark knew that he should try to keep Steve awake but somehow he just didn't seem to be able to make any words come as he looked once again at his sons battered body and knew that all that Steve cared about, even through all that pain, was his well being. It was too much for him and he sat back and wept, grateful that at that moment the EMTs arrived.  
  
The rest of the journey back to Community General was a complete blur for Mark. He remembered flashes and then nothing until he woke up in one of the hospital beds. Amanda sitting at his bedside.  
  
Mark was confused. "How....?" he began.  
  
"You collapsed," Amanda explained gently. "Emotional and physical exhaustion. You made it back with Steve as far as the ER."  
  
"Steve?" He didn't need to say any more.  
  
"Has a catalogue of injuries that would put most RTA victims to shame and had a recurrence of the infection you treated but there is nothing life threatening. He's in ICU until some of his injuries heal but he's going to be fine and," Amanda said smiling, "before you have to ask Jesse is going to be fine too. He came out of the coma a few hours ago and I had to practically physically restrain him to stop him coming down to check on how you are." She laughed. "Whilst I'm at it, Nathan's going to be OK they're keeping him in overnight for observation and the other young NSA agent, Baker is out of danger too."  
  
"And how are you honey?" Mark asked concerned that Amanda seemed to have the weight of everyone else's problems on her shoulders.  
  
"Oh, I'm fine but I can see I'm going to get exhausted from visiting everyone." She continued to smile at Mark. She couldn't help it she was just so relieved that everyone was going to be OK. "Maybe I should check and see if we can take over one of the wings of the hospital for all of you? and I could try bulk buying the grapes."  
  
Mark smiled back up at her but she could see the tiredness in his eyes. She gently kissed him on the forehead. "Now you get some sleep and maybe you can help me with the visiting in the morning."  
  
"I'd really like to see Steve now," Mark said but his eyes were already closing.  
  
"I know you would," Amanda said gently to his sleeping form. 


	22. CHAPTER22

Epilogue  
  
Amanda left Mark sleeping, she had suggested and Bill Taylor had agreed with her that Mark needed a strong sedative to force him to relax after the trauma of the last few days. They had both known that Mark would be up and at his son's side as soon as he were able, and if he was not forced to rest then the consequences for his own health could be serious.  
  
She did feel a little guilty, she hadn't been entirely truthful with her friend about Steve's condition, he was not yet out of danger entirely. True that none of his injuries individually was life threatening, but the combination of them had left him in critical condition. His weakened system was having a hard time fighting the infection even with the help of the powerful antibiotics that were being given intravenously.  
  
The next few hours could be touch and go and both Amanda and Dr. Taylor knew Mark was not up to facing that, not again. So they had taken the decision to keep Mark asleep, by the time he awoke in the morning hopefully Steve would be stronger and truly out of danger and Mark would be in a better state to deal with everything.  
  
She tried not to think about how Mark would react if Steve's condition did not improve and he had been denied the chance of being there. That simply was not going to happen. Her faith had paid off with Jesse and it was going to pay off with Steve too.  
  
Having left Mark's room, she had one more visit that she needed to do that evening before going and trying to catch some sleep herself and that was to check in on detective Turner. Given the fact that the three men who were closest to her in the world were all patients themselves, she had surprised herself with how worried she was about the young detective.  
  
As she walked down the corridor she realised that it was about time she started dealing with these feelings that she had been ignoring amidst the drama that had been going on in her life.  
  
She remembered the feelings of jealousy that she had had when she had seen Nathan react to Agent Harris, what seemed like a lifetime had only been a few days ago. She remembered the pleasure she had felt on seeing Nathan rush into the ICU doctor's lounge, disheveled and obviously flustered, his attempt to regain his composure drawing her attention despite the serious reason for his visit. She had not been able to take her eyes off him for some time on that occasion.  
  
Most of all, however, she remembered the slight kick, the tiny butterflies she'd felt the last few times when she had seen him. All ignored at the time because there was too much else going on to deal with it, and now.... well now she had the time.  
  
She walked down the corridor to his room feeling slightly nervous.  
  
  
  
Emma and Alison stood side by side on the corridor staring in through the glass at Steve's pale and sleeping form. They were not related and so had been told that they would have to wait until he was stronger before they could go in. The seriousness of his condition was reinforced to them both by the presence of all of the machines and monitors and the regular checks by the nurses who updated his chart every fifteen minutes.  
  
They had been together since Collins and Captain Newman had left to back Mark up. They were together when Steve had been brought in, and by Mark's side when he had collapsed in the ER. They had sat patiently and waited for news as Steve went up to the OR to have his many wounds cleaned and stitched and his burns treated.  
  
They had followed him up to ICU and had waited again for news from the doctors. Now that they were allowed to see for themselves that he was indeed still alive, albeit barely, they stood next to each other, saying their own silent prayers  
  
In all that time they had said very little, there was little that they could say, each lost in their own thoughts.  
  
It was Emma who spoke now, one hand raised and pressed against the glass as though that were closer to touching him. "He will be all right won't he?" She said quietly, in a tone that made it sound more like a statement than a question.  
  
"He has to be," Alison replied without turning her gaze away from the bed.  
  
"Mrs. Fielding," a voice said softly from behind. Both women turned to find Director Collins and Captain Newman along with a uniformed female police officer. It was Captain Newman who had spoken. "We're sorry to bother you," he continued. "I know the past few days has been very difficult for you but we do need to take a statement."  
  
He carefully watched Emma's reaction. There had been tears brimming in her eyes when she had turned round but otherwise she remained impassive.  
  
"I've brought a female police officer with us and I promise that both Director Collins and I will handle this personally." He hastily continued, "We know you have every reason not to trust the law to protect you at the moment but..."  
  
"It's OK," Emma interrupted, "I'm tired of running." She glanced back at the bed behind her. before turning to face the law enforcement agents again. "And the cost is too high." She sighed and her shoulders dropped. "I'll go with you and tell you all I can."  
  
"Thank you," Newman said and the small group began to move off.  
  
Alison watched them go, knowing that she should feel strong animosity towards the woman who was a rival for Steve's affections. It was because of her that he was now fighting for his very life. All of the things that had happened to Steve in the last few days had happened because of her, the injuries, the pain, the fever, all because he had tried to help.  
  
Yet as she watched her walk away shoulders slumped, utterly defeated by the cards life had dealt her, Alison could feel nothing but compassion.  
  
Emma had lost her husband, drugged into paranoia and almost believing she had killed him. She had almost lost her own life and had been driven to the brink of a mental breakdown by the greed of another. As for what had happened to Steve, Alison knew that it had affected Emma every bit as much as it had affected her. She had seen in Emma's eyes how deeply she cared for Steve, knew that she felt deep guilt for his pain. In short she knew that Emma loved him too.  
  
"Wait," Alison called after the retreating figures. They all stopped and turned to look at her. "There's something I have to tell Mrs. Fielding, Emma," She moved slightly closer. "If we could just have a moment in private."  
  
Collins and Newman glanced at each other slightly bemused, Newman's eyes questioning 'what do you think' without him actually voicing the words. Collins shrugged.  
  
"OK," Newman said, "we'll wait for you by the elevators." And they walked off leaving Emma and Alison facing each other, Emma with an expression of curiosity on her face.  
  
Alison took a deep breath, steeling herself, attempting to reaffirm her resolve to tell Emma what she was about to tell her. Deep down she knew it was the right thing to do but that didn't mean it wasn't going to hurt.  
  
"There was something I didn't tell you," She said quietly her voice shaking slightly, "something that I didn't tell anyone. There was..." she hesitated, this was so hard to do, too much emotion was involved. "There was a little more to the conversation that I overheard between Steve and agent Harris." She looked up into Emma's eyes, they were still questioning. "She asked..." another hesitation, "she asked Steve if he still loved you." Alison glanced down at the floor and took another deep breath before meeting Emma's gaze once more. "And he said yes." She finished almost as quietly as Steve had replied. "I thought... I thought you should know."  
  
Alison continued to stare into Emma's eyes waiting for some sort of reaction, not sure of what to expect. It took several seconds for the words to sink in and then Alison saw there something that had been missing since she had met this woman earlier that day. She saw a new spark of life, a spark of hope.  
  
As the words penetrated Emma realised just how hard it must have been for Alison to have told her that. If the positions had been reversed she wasn't sure if she would have done the same. She smiled at Alison with the warmest smile she could manage. "Thank you," she said softly, but her eyes expressed her gratitude better than words ever could. She turned and headed off towards the waiting group by the elevator, her demeanor better, stronger than it had been.  
  
Alison watched until she had disappeared from sight then turned for one last look at Steve's peaceful form. Then she headed for the nurses' station. She hastily wrote a note and addressed it to Dr. Bentley leaving it at the desk she headed out of the hospital and home. Home, where she could finally unleash those tears that she had been holding in, where she could face the emotions and revelations of the day  
  
  
  
Nathan appeared to be sleeping when Amanda walked in, not wanting to disturb him she made to turn and leave when he spoke. "Amanda?"  
  
She turned back to find that he had opened his eyes and was smiling at her.  
  
"I thought you were asleep," she said by way of explanation for her almost hasty departure. She moved over to the bed.  
  
"No," he replied, "just resting my eyes against the light, it helps keep the headache down to a dull thumping." He smiled again, "And I was trying to make sense of what happened," he continued. "I've just had Captain Newman here. He filled me in on the events after I was hit." His expression darkened. "Boy I didn't see that one coming. Some detective huh?"  
  
"Hey don't blame yourself." She caught the now familiar self recrimination in his tone. He was the only person she knew who was even harder on himself than Steve was. He seemed to believe that anything less that perfection, certainly when it came to his work, just wasn't good enough. "She had us all fooled." Amanda continued reassuringly. "I seem to remember it was you who pointed out her excellent acting abilities."  
  
"Guess she won't be winning any Oscars now."  
  
"No, thank goodness," Amanda said her own expression becoming more serious, "and I never thought that I would say this about anyone but I'm glad that she's dead, after what she did to Steve...."  
  
"How is he?" Nathan asked concerned.  
  
"Holding his own," Amanda looked wistful, that was about the best she could say at the moment.  
  
"And Jesse?"  
  
"Annoying," Amanda said her smile returning. "The only positive thing about cyanide poisoning is that it kills by paralysing the respiratory system, stopping you breathing, but if you survive then it has no long term effects. It seems that we got to Jesse in time, the oxygen to his brain wasn't cut off long enough to cause any permanent damage. Since he woke up he's done nothing but complain about the fact that he has to remain in bed. Which considering he almost died twice in the last three days.."  
  
"Sounds about like Jesse," Nathan smiled back. "Who says doctors don't make good patients?"  
  
Amanda had taken a seat next to the bed and Nathan couldn't help noticing how tired she looked.  
  
"So all of this must have been pretty hard on you," he said placing a reassuring hand on her arm.  
  
Amanda felt a slight tingle as she reacted to his touch and wondered if he felt it too. She looked up into his eyes and there was something there. She knew that he did.  
  
She swallowed before replying to his question. "Yes, it's been a rough few days."  
  
Despite his pounding headache Nathan couldn't help but notice the twinge of excitement he had experienced when he touched Amanda's arm. What started out as a friendly gesture suddenly meant more and he could see in her eyes, could sense, that she felt it too.  
  
Like Amanda he had known that there was something, a spark between them, for a while now. Each time they met he took pleasure in her company no matter how grisly the case they were discussing, but up until now he had been loath to act on it in case he was imagining things.  
  
"When this is all over.." he began before he had chance to think about it and use logic to change his mind. "That is when Steve's out of danger, maybe I.... I mean....maybe we..." This was not going well maybe he should have thought more about it.  
  
"I'd love to." Amanda replied, amused by Nathan's discomfort, she guessed that this was not something he did very often.  
  
"Pardon?" Nathan asked somewhat bewildered.  
  
"You want to know if, when things have settled down a bit, I'll have dinner with you and the answer is yes," Amanda smiled at his 'how did you know that?' expression. "You're not the only one around here who does detective work you know?"  
  
He favoured her with his brightest grin. "I guess not," he said and rested his head back on the pillows.  
  
  
  
When Mark finally awoke the sun was already high in the sky. He looked around trying to make sense of his surroundings. Remembering where he was and why he was there he sat up in bed and pressed the button that would summon a nurse. The call was answered quickly and Mark was greeted by a friendly face. Nurse Jones had worked at the hospital for over ten years.  
  
Mark was determined to get dressed and go straight to see Steve but was persuaded to wait whilst Dr. Taylor was summoned so that he could give him the all clear. The clinching argument had been that it would look very bad if the chief of Internal Medicine at the hospital were to walk roughshod over hospital procedures and Nurse Jones left him in no doubt that she would make sure that everybody knew.  
  
Mark sighed and acquiesced, knowing that the nurse was doing her job and looking out for him, he sat and waited as patiently as he could manage for Dr. Taylor to arrive and check him over, before he allowed that to happen, however, he secured an update on Steve's condition.  
  
Steve was out of danger. The infection and accompanying fever was down and vital signs were strong and steady. He would remain in ICU for the time being because of the extent of his injuries and he would be kept heavily sedated for at least the next couple of days to spare him some of the pain.  
  
Mark did not need to have it pointed out that Steve's injuries were all amongst the most painful that a person could sustain. Electrical burns being at the top of that list closely followed by an infected gunshot wound, two broken ribs and long cuts to the skin and muscle tissue that had sliced their way through a multitude of pain receptors. Allowing him to wake up before some of those had a chance to heal would be nothing short of cruel.  
  
There was however a limit to how long they could use sedation as a method of pain control. If the injured muscles were left too long without movement then the pain of getting them to move again would equal any they produced when damaged. It was a fine line that they were going to have to tread and, however they did it, they could not spare Steve from what was going to be a long and painful recovery.  
  
Having completed his checks Dr. Bill Taylor looked at his old friend. "Here's the deal," he began. "You spend the day with Steve up in his room if you want but you come back down here and stay here tonight. I want to keep a check on you."  
  
Mark was too astute for that, he knew why his old friend didn't want him going home. "Amanda told you about the Beach House didn't she?"  
  
Bill smiled. "Yes and you are in no state to go home and deal with that," he replied, "but even if your home had been fine I think I probably would have kept you in anyway. Don't forget you collapsed yesterday and you need to rest."  
  
"Is that why you gave me the sedative?" Mark asked, he could still feel the remains of it clinging in his system, making him drowsy despite all the sleep. He correctly named what he must have been given and the dose.  
  
"Anyone else and I would have said that they had checked out their chart," Bill laughed.  
  
"OK," Mark said, not wanting to waste any more time, he wanted to go up and see Steve for himself. "I'll stay here, but from now on no drugs without letting me know first."  
  
Having secured agreement with Dr. Taylor, Mark headed up to ICU. He couldn't get the image of the last time he had seen Steve, lying battered and bleeding on the cold concrete floor out of his head. Nor could he block the memory of the terrible odour, a mixture of blood and burnt flesh, as it appeared to assault his senses once more.  
  
The sight of Steve in the ICU, whilst holding it's own terrors was nothing compared to that. He moved into the room quickly and looked down, the cuts and burns were all covered in clean dressings and there was the steady reassuring beep of the heart monitor affirming that Steve was still alive. Mark could not take hold of his son's hand as he wanted, they were both heavily bandaged, instead he gently brushed the hair off Steve's forehead, savouring the contact before sitting in the chair and watching the gentle rise and fall of Steve's chest.  
  
The position was all too familiar, once again he had come too close to losing his beloved son and if that happened, he would not only lose a precious child, something no parent should have to bear, but an integral part of his life. He said a prayer and thanked God that he had once more been spared that grief.  
  
  
  
Mark stayed in the hospital ostensibly as a patient for the next two days. Dr. Taylor had been right he needed to be stronger to deal with the wreckage at the beach house and being in the hospital gave him the opportunity to remain close to Steve and to get some much needed rest. Although the amount of rest he actually achieved became questionable once Jesse managed to get himself up and around.  
  
If anyone had been afraid that Jesse would suffer after effects, melancholy or depression from the trauma of his two close brushes with death, then they were very much mistaken. If anything, the experience seemed to have increased his enthusiastic zest for life, which given his already bubbly personality, made him difficult to keep up with.  
  
Jesse's arm and hand were responding positively to his treatment and all of his fears seemed to be forgotten, despite, or maybe because of his second close call. Maybe it had helped him to realise that it was just good to be alive.  
  
When Mark was not sitting in vigil at Steve's bedside, and sometimes when he was, he spent time with the young doctor, needing somehow to make up for not being there when he had been gravely ill. They spent the time talking and reminiscing, a lot about Steve but some of it just about each other. Jesse appreciated it, knowing that he had people who genuinely cared for him like Mark and Amanda and Steve was part of the reason why he now felt that life was so good.  
  
  
  
The decision was taken on the second day, the third since Steve had been admitted, to reduce the level of sedation and see how Steve handled it.  
  
When Steve finally woke both his father and Jesse were sitting in the room. Steve had had brief interludes of consciousness between seeing his father looking down at him in the factory and waking up now. He recalled different images, snatches of conversation, the loud sound from the choppers rotor blades, bright lights as he was rushed into the ER, smiling concerned faces looking down at him. Somehow these mixed in with other random memories; standing in the rain holding out his hand too afraid to touch Emma in case she were an illusion, watching Jesse try to drag himself to his feet as blood poured from his arm, looking in the mirror at his own pale, bruised and battered image, Nathan falling to the floor, Stephanie plunging a knife into his arm, the rifle pointed at his father's head.  
  
In his mind the images swirled and blended into one, a nightmare of defeat and rescue, of hope and despair. He saw the rifle pointing down at his father heard the shot as it reverberated around the room and his eyes flew open "No," he cried out in an anguished tone.  
  
Mark was instantly at his side, "It's OK son," he said reassuringly. "It's all over and everyone is safe."  
  
Steve's eyes focused on his father, "Dad?" he said questioningly  
  
"Yes," Mark smiled as his son recognised him and with that recognition the fear dissipated from Steve's face as he smiled back.  
  
"And don't forget me," said Jesse, his characteristic grin plastered over his face.  
  
Steve turned to look at his young friend a huge surge of relief temporarily robbed him of any further response. Stephanie had told him that she had killed Jesse and he had believed her. His lack of response made both his father and his friend deepen their concern as Steve stared blankly at Jesse.  
  
"Steve are you all right?" Mark asked.  
  
Steve forced himself to respond before he caused any further worry. He looked into Jesse's eyes his own expression turning to pure pleasure. "She told me you were dead... that she had killed you." Steve said by way of explanation.  
  
"She tried," Jesse replied, his grin widening at his friends' reaction, "but I, like you, am not that easy to get rid of."  
  
"Thank goodness," Steve said meaningfully.  
  
Despite the sincerity of Steve's comment Jesse could not help giving a light hearted reply, "I'll remind you you said that next time I'm over watching your pay per view." He said mischievously  
  
Steve smiled at his friend, instead of taking the comment in the light hearted spirit that it was meant however he used it to reaffirm the relief he had that his friend was still alive. "You do that." He swallowed, emotion making his voice crack slightly, "trust me I'll never complain again."  
  
As he looked into Jesse's bright eyes he suddenly felt an overwhelming surge of guilt, replacing the relief and pleasure in an instant. This was his best friend and he had almost got him killed not once but twice. He looked down at the bed his expression darkening.  
  
Mark and Jesse exchanged worried glances unable to keep up with Steve's rapidly switching mood. "Steve?" Jesse asked his voice edged with concern again.  
  
"I'm sorry Jess," Steve said quietly still unable to look at his friend.  
  
"Sorry?" Jesse repeated confused.  
  
"I shouldn't have got you involved," Steve said unable to look back up into Jesse's eyes. "You almost died twice. It's my fault, I'm really sorry."  
  
Jesse understood. "Hey, don't even go there Steve," he said so sharply that Steve was shocked into looking at him. "The only thing I remember is you running out into a hail of bullets to drag me to safety, treating my wound and making sure that I got here still breathing, despite being hurt yourself, and that is the only thing I hold you responsible for." He locked Steve's gaze holding it for several seconds. "The only thing, you got it?"  
  
Jesse's uncharacteristic sincerity forced Steve to take notice. Not that Jess wasn't the sincere and caring sort. It was just that he normally chose to hide his feelings behind humour and light banter. It reinforced, on those occasions when he did let it show, the importance to him of what he was saying. Steve was reminded once again of why he liked Jesse so much despite their differences. "I got it," he replied allowing his smile to return.  
  
It was at that point that doctor Taylor arrived to check on Steve's condition. Mark had paged him the instant Steve had shown signs of returning to consciousness.  
  
The interruption lasted twenty minutes before Mark and Jesse were allowed to return. Dr. Taylor shook his head, rarely did he have his patients visiting each other, but he felt that the prognosis for all three of them would be improved by their mutual support, so he allowed it on the understanding that they all got sufficient rest.  
  
Mark and Jesse spent most of the rest of the day with Steve, talking to him when he wasn't sleeping. He was still very drowsy and drifted off every so often. They filled him in on all that had happened, how they had managed to find him and how agent Harris had, thanks to him, finally met her end.  
  
Amanda had done the autopsy on her. She had died instantly although it wasn't clear which of the four bullets that had hit her were responsible for her death. Three had hit her in the chest, left side and one in the neck. Collins, Newman and the two police marksmen had all been able to get a clear shot when she broke cover to take aim first at Steve and then at Mark and they had all taken it, each of them finding their mark. Before that she had been too well hidden and, if it had not been for Steve's distraction, they were all doubtful that they would have been able to do anything before she had shot Mark.  
  
At about five thirty there was a knock at the door to Steve's room. Mark was there alone with Steve as Jesse had had to return to his own room for his treatment to continue.  
  
The two men who entered were both in their early forties and, just from their demeanor Mark could tell they were police before they spoke.  
  
They took out their badges, "Detective Cohen and Detective Nelson, Internal affairs," Cohen said indicating his partner. "We need to speak to lieutenant Sloan, it shouldn't take long."  
  
"Dr. Mark Sloan, Lieutenant Sloan's father," Mark returned the introduction before continuing defensively "Couldn't this wait gentlemen, my son is recovering from some serious injuries."  
  
"I appreciate that Dr. Sloan," Cohen replied politely, "but the sooner we can file our report the sooner this will all be cleared up for everyone concerned."  
  
Mark was about to protest again but Steve spoke from behind him. "Dad, it's all right," he said, his voice weak but even, "I need to do this."  
  
Steve had known from the moment that he had taken the law into his own hands, that this time would come. As an officer of that law, he would not easily be forgiven for the way he had disappeared and flouted procedure. At best he might get off with a formal reprimand and a fixed period of suspension. At worst he would lose his badge.  
  
Since returning to consciousness he had not really had time to consider those outcomes and was quite glad of that fact. One thing he did know, putting off this interview would simply delay the inevitable and if he was going to lose the job that he loved he would rather get it over with quickly than drag the whole process out.  
  
Mark turned to look at his son, his expression asking 'are you sure you want to do this.' Steve held his gaze steady and nodded slightly. "OK," Mark said, "but I'm staying."  
  
Neither of the IA officers seemed to have a problem with this. In fact Steve was surprised at how genial the two men were. IA officers were usually more hostile when dealing with people they knew had broken the rules.  
  
If he was surprised by their attitude he was totally taken aback by their first question. "We've been told by Captain Newman that you have been working undercover for the NSA in a joint operation in order to help them smoke out a rogue agent. You were working under direct authority of one of their Field directors," he checked his notes, "Director Collins. Is that correct?" Cohen asked.  
  
Steve quickly hid his shock, licking his lips to moisten them, he nodded. "Yes, that is correct," he replied as his mind rapidly analysed the situation. Newman and Collins had covered for him, had obviously reported that everything he had done had been under orders from them. He hadn't thought that his Captain had it in him, he owed him big time for this.  
  
The rest of the interview was easy. The two officers had the whole story from both a director of the NSA and a police Captain and that was good enough for them. All they expected from Steve was that he confirmed their version of events and added the odd detail, so that they could file their report and go home.  
  
When they left, they left a somewhat relieved and bemused Steve behind, not only would he not lose his job but it was possible that he would get a commendation for bravery above and beyond the call of duty. It was all too much for his pain wracked senses to comprehend.  
  
Mark had been equally shocked and was equally relieved that his son would not get into trouble for his actions which ,after all, had been driven by the need to save someone's life. He was reminded of the many times that he had been out on a limb to do the same. Sometimes gaining justice and following the letter of the law did not go hand in hand.  
  
Mark also thought he understood why Collins had protected Steve. He had spent only a little time with the man but knew that he took his responsibilities seriously. Stephanie had been under his command and so he felt responsible for all of the problems that she had caused. This was his way of putting some of that right.  
  
  
  
The following day Mark returned home. Amanda drove him and walked with him as far as the door of the house. The yellow crime scene tape was still there reminding him before he even entered of the devastation beyond. He paused at the door, turning and gripping both of Amanda's hands in his. "Just give me a few minutes on my own," he said quietly.  
  
She nodded and Mark took a deep breath and entered the house. He wondered in through the entrance hall and looked around at the debris but that was not what he saw. Instead he saw the room perfectly decorated. His children rushing by, barely stopping to acknowledge he was there in their youthful enthusiasm.  
  
He wondered slowly from room to room in his mind's eye the furniture miraculously repaired itself, the books returned to their shelves and in each one there were people, his wife, his children, his friends, different people at different times, laughing and smiling, talking, playing, even singing and dancing. He saw them once again and heard them. Saw only his home in all it's glory, in all it's beauty, as his own haven from the world.  
  
When Amanda finally came in she found him standing on the deck staring out at the ocean. She walked out to stand beside him and put her hand on his arm.  
  
"You know it's true what I said once." He spoke softly without taking his eyes off the crashing waves. "It's not the things that you have or even the space that you live in that makes a place home. It's all in here," he pointed at his heart, "and up here," he pointed to his head. "That's what really matters." He carried on staring out at the ocean for a few minutes allowing the mood to linger before he turned back to Amanda. "Although I'm guessing that people won't want to try to sit on ripped cushions and memories." He smiled. "So I think I'd better start tidying up."  
  
"I'm here to help," Amanda volunteered amazed by her old friend's resilience. They made their way back inside just as the doorbell rang. "Ah, that'll be the volunteers," she stated.  
  
"Volunteers?" Mark asked as he followed her back to the hallway.  
  
Amanda did not answer straight away she simply opened the door to the large group of people who stood outside. As they started to come in she explained. "This is the clean up crew, all volunteers from the hospital who wanted to help when they heard what happened. There would have been more but a lot of them are on shift." She looked at Mark taking a big pile of catalogues from one of the people who Mark recognised as an ER nurse. "Your job for today is to supervise and set about ordering replacements for the things that can't be repaired."  
  
Mark just stood for a few moments with his mouth open. He recognised all of the people, knew them by name, they covered a complete spectrum of the workforce from the hospital; cleaners, porters, nurses, doctors even someone from the catering staff. All of them dressed for work some of them carrying cleaning materials, others carrying tools for repair work.  
  
Mark was at a loss for words unable to believe that so many people would be prepared to give up their time to help him, so self-effacing that he failed to realise that he had helped out each and every one of the people in front of him over the years with some small or large act of kindness.  
  
Jesse brought up the rear of the group his arm still heavily bandaged and in a sling. "Don't just stand there," he said grinning. "Get supervising."  
  
  
  
Steve grew stronger every day, his general high level of fitness helping his body to recover from the multitude of injuries. Visits from his father and friends helped and Steve's progress was good but he was now left with a major dilemma and it was one he would have to face alone.  
  
Mark caught him just sitting staring out of the window on several occasions and knew instinctively what he was thinking about. He tried not to intrude on his son's private thoughts but made it clear that he was there if Steve needed to talk to him about anything.  
  
In their own way Jesse and Amanda did the same. Amanda in particular was able to pick up on slight aspects of Steve's expression and behaviour that let her know where his thoughts lay. Even Jesse, not always the most tactful of friends especially when it came to Steve's love-life, could see the difficulties that Steve faced and avoided the glib jibes that under normal circumstances he knew Steve could cope with.  
  
As for the two women in question they both visited for short periods at different times of the day.  
  
The first time Emma had visited when Steve was awake she had told him of her gratitude for saving her life and had again tried to apologise for the pain she had caused him but Steve would not hear of it.  
  
"I made you a promise a long time ago," he said quietly, "I just kept it that's all."  
  
"Then at least let me reiterate what I said on that first night." She replied, "Thank you for being the only person I could ever trust"  
  
Beyond that their conversations had avoided any real emotional content, deliberately on both sides. Emma had turned up each day and stayed for a few minutes checking on his condition and ensuring that he had everything he needed. She made it clear that she cared about him, but nothing more. There was time for that when he was stronger.  
  
Alison had had to be persuaded to visit. On the night she had left the hospital she had left a note for Amanda who, on reading it the following morning, had called and insisted that she come in and talk about it.  
  
'Dear Amanda,' it had read, 'I'm sorry about this but I think it would be easier on Steve if I don't visit. Please keep me updated on his condition and give him my love when he wakes up. I will check on him from time to time- Alison.'  
  
After a long talk Amanda had managed to persuade Alison that she would regret it if she walked out of Steve's life now.  
  
"You love him don't you?" Amanda had asked, astute as ever.  
  
"Yes," Alison replied honestly, returning Amanda's gaze. "But that's not enough unless he loves me too."  
  
"And you know for a fact that he doesn't?"  
  
"Yes," Alison answered quickly then hesitated, "No, I thought maybe he did but then....."  
  
Amanda noted the confusion, "Alison, whatever has happened over the last few days, you and Steve had something really good together going. Don't throw it all away until you're sure that it can't be saved." She paused, "I don't think any of us are in a state to make any decisions at the moment least of all Steve. Don't cut him off. Give him a little time. You owe him and yourself that."  
  
Alison thought about it. Amanda was right, no matter how painful this may be she needed to play it out to the end. "OK," she said softly, "Let me know when he's up to having visitors," and with a slight melancholy smile she got up and left.  
  
She had known that she had made the right decision when she visited Steve for the first time. His face lit up as she approached and he flashed her his best smile. His blue eyes sparkling as they had done when he'd picked her up for their first date.  
  
It had occurred to Steve in that moment that if he had died then he would never have seen Alison's smile again and that would have been one of his biggest regrets. It also occurred to him that he would never have got a chance to tell her that he loved her and he did.  
  
The whole visit and all of the subsequent visits were enjoyable for them both. Steve taking strength from her company and her caring for him, but as with Emma there was a slight undercurrent of avoidance on both sides as they skirted round any discussions of real emotion.  
  
For Steve the dilemma he now faced was like some alien entity. Never in his wildest dreams had he ever considered that he could end up in such a position. He was strictly a one woman man, always had been. He would never have dreamed of looking at someone else whilst he was involved and yet he was now faced with two women, each of whom he loved and cared for, and he knew that they loved him.  
  
He was faced with feelings of guilt for what he saw as his betrayal of Alison, leaving her side to help Emma, unable to prevent himself from responding to the strong feelings in him that she invoked. He did not know what to do, but he did know that he had to do something.  
  
So each day, when there was no one else around, he sat lost in an emotional turmoil.  
  
  
  
Steve stood in the hospital corridor and waited. His father would be by in about an hour to take him home but there was something he needed to do first. As he stood his mind drifted back to another time, another place, a scene he had relived a thousand times  
  
He had paced nervously up and down the corridor, rehearsing over and over what he was going to say. His stomach was beyond tying itself in knots instead he just felt like he was going to be physically sick, the nerves were so strong. He had never felt like this about anything or anyone before. By the time Emma had appeared he had worked himself into a state, but simply one glance at her beauty as she approached, was enough to cause a sense of calm to settle over him.  
  
He had known from the moment he had seen her that there was something special about her. For the first couple of weeks she had spent her time nursing him back to health, remaining professional, but he knew that she felt it too. As he grew stronger the spark between them had grown and she had asked to be reassigned, not wishing her job to be compromised.  
  
Once she was no longer his nurse they had spent every spare moment she had together. She helped him fight his demons, deal with the grief and guilt that he had felt for the loss of his friend and, most importantly, she had given him a reason to go on living in his moments of deepest despair.  
  
Now he stood, barely eight weeks after meeting her, watching her walk towards him and knowing that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.  
  
He smiled that smile that melted her heart and took off his uniform cap.  
  
She smiled back at him but the smile did not reach her eyes. Steve dismissed it, he was going to have to go back tomorrow and finish his tour of duty, of course she was going to be sad, but he only had a few weeks to go and after that they had their future together.  
  
"You look beautiful, " he said, stepping closer, "You always look beautiful," and he kissed her a deep passionate kiss, she melted into his embrace.  
  
Then he stepped back from her, taking a deep breath for what he was about to do.  
  
She placed her hand on his arm. "Steve wait..." she said quietly stopping his action. "There's something I need to tell you."  
  
Steve looked at her suddenly frightened by what he saw, by the anguish in her tone. He knew that he was not going to like what was to come.  
  
"I should have told you long before now," she continued hesitantly, "but the time never seemed right, at first it didn't seem important and then when it was it was too late."  
  
Steve looked deep into her eyes. "What? Tell me , you're scaring me."  
  
"Back in England," Emma replied, tears brimming in her eyes, "I'm already engaged, I have a fiancee."  
  
Steve stepped back as though he'd been physically slapped. He looked at her, his face reflecting a mixture of hurt and betrayal and then he turned away. Not wanting her to see the stinging tears that were forming in his eyes.  
  
They stood in silence for several minutes before Steve spoke, "Do you love him?" he almost whispered.  
  
"Pardon?"  
  
He turned back to face her "I said do you love him?"  
  
Emma hesitated, "I.... care for him."  
  
"That's not what I asked."  
  
She thought for a moment. "No," she admitted, a tear rolled down her cheek.  
  
Steve grasped at the spark of hope that this admission allowed. "But you do love me." he stated. It was not a question, he knew the answer. "Then break the engagement, marry me instead, come back home with me. I'll take care of you." the words poured out desperately. It was not the proposal he had intended.  
  
"It's not that simple," She replied.  
  
He moved back towards her. "Then make it that simple." He pulled the engagement ring from his pocket and opened the box offering it to her. "Marry me." he repeated.  
  
She looked at the ring. "It's beautiful." There was a long pause. "but I can't take it, I'm sorry."  
  
Steve gazed into her eyes, "But I love you."  
  
"I know," she said softly, "but that's not enough. The change it's just too big a risk, I'm sorry." She folded her hand over his closing the box. "I'm truly sorry," and she turned and began to walk away the tears falling freely down her cheeks.  
  
Steve couldn't begin to describe the pain he felt. It was as though someone had ripped out his heart. He could hardly bear to watch her walk away from him, walk out of his life. "Emma," he called out unwilling to let her go without letting her know that he would always love her.  
  
Reluctantly she turned to face him one last time.  
  
"I want you to know that if you ever need me, I will be there for you."  
  
She closed her eyes and nodded, unable to find the strength to speak, she turned once more, praying that he would not call her back again as she did not think she had the strength to turn away from him for a third time.  
  
Steve stood and watched her go, gripping the ring box tightly in his hand.  
  
Even now Steve could hardly bear the emotions that the memory invoked. He lifted his hand to wipe away the tears in his eyes. There was a gentle cough behind him.  
  
He turned to find Emma standing there. He had been so lost in his reminiscences that he hadn't heard her approach, had no idea how long she had been there.  
  
"Beautiful as ever," Steve said smiling at her.  
  
Emma smiled back, "You always did start every encounter with flattery," she said.  
  
"It wasn't flattery, I always meant it," Steve replied  
  
"And now?"  
  
"I still mean it."  
  
Emma stared at him. "Why am I here?" she asked. Steve had called and asked him to meet her on one of the corridors in a deserted part of the hospital.  
  
"It seemed..... appropriate" Steve stated "We need to talk,".  
  
Emma had known this was coming she just hadn't wanted it quite so soon. "I know," came the soft reply.  
  
Steve took a deep breath. "I love you, I have always loved you and probably always will ..." he paused his eyes searching hers. "And I know that you love me."  
  
Emma did not speak she just nodded, waiting to see where this was leading.  
  
"But you told me once that that was not enough, I didn't understand at the time. I don't think I've understood for the last thirty years." He paused again, before adding softly "but I think I do now."  
  
There were tears running down Emma's cheeks, a small part of her had hoped for a 'happily ever after' with Steve but the more realistic part had known that she had made her choice thirty years ago and there was no going back.  
  
"The differences between us were too great, the adjustment too much. It was true then and I think it's true now." Steve had had plenty of time to analyse this, knew that what he was saying was true. So why did it still hurt so damn much. He fought back the tears, then he reached into his pocket, somewhat awkwardly with his bandaged hand and took out a well worn ring case. "I wanted you to have this," he said, opening it to reveal the still shiny ring within "I brought it for you and even though it never meant what I wanted it to, I've always thought of it as yours."  
  
This time Emma took it and stared at it for a few moments before closing the case and gripping it tightly in her hand.  
  
"I'll still always be there for you if you need me." Steve said, Emma nodded and smiled.  
  
This time it was Steve who turned and walked away.  
  
  
  
Later that evening Steve sat on his favourite spot on the beach staring out at the crashing waves, savouring the fact that he was still alive to enjoy the spectacle of the sun setting over the water.  
  
He knew that he had company before she reached him, had known that Alison was coming out to see him and had asked his father to tell her where he was. Mark was surprised. He had always viewed the log on the beach at the edge of the dunes as Steve's private spot, where he went to sit and think when he wanted to be alone.  
  
As Alison approached he indicated the space beside him. "Take a seat."  
  
Neither of them spoke for several minutes, they just sat and watched the sun slowly sink beneath the horizon.  
  
"You overheard me tell agent Harris that I still loved Emma didn't you?" Steve asked. It was a simple question not an accusation. Steve had had a long time to think this through and knew that to get a truthful answer he would have to be direct  
  
Alison was slightly startled by this as an opening to the conversation but she answered nonetheless. "Yes."  
  
Steve turned to look at her. "I'm sorry that must have hurt," he said gently, pausing briefly before continuing. "I've done a lot to hurt you over the past couple of weeks." He turned his gaze away, picking up a stick and drawing random patterns in the sand at his feet.  
  
Alison watched him, sensing the guilt, "It's all right," she said.  
  
"No," Steve's hand stopped moving, he looked up at the shoreline. "It's not all right, you deserve better than that."  
  
She watched him again as he stared out at the white spray, still visible in the fading light.  
  
"I was with someone else when I should have been with you." The guilt now edged his voice. "I have no right to expect you to forgive me for that." He paused and swallowed. "I don't know if I can forgive myself."  
  
It took Alison a few moments to reply, she needed to word her answer carefully. "There's nothing to forgive. You did what you did to help someone you cared deeply about. I wouldn't expect anything less."  
  
"But.."  
  
"No," Alison interrupted. He turned to face her. "All of it is in the past now. I just need to know what is in the future. Will you see her again?"  
  
"No," Steve answered truthfully, he had made his decision, Emma was a part of his past.  
  
"And me?" she said softly. "Do you want to see me again?"  
  
Steve smiled at her and stood up taking her hand. "Come on let's go for a walk."  
  
Mark watched Steve walk back up the stairs on to the deck, his movements were still slow and stiff but the worst was over. He had been getting worried, it was Steve's first day at home and he didn't want him overdoing things. Jesse and Amanda were there they had all waited dinner for his return. A small celebration at having him home again.  
  
Mark was surprised to see that he was alone. He had expected Alison to be with him. He looked closely at Steve's features to see if he could judge his mood.  
  
Steve smiled at his father, somehow he had known that he would be watching and waiting for him, worrying about him as usual. "Hi dad," he said casually.  
  
"Alison not with you?" Mark asked innocently unable to temper his curiosity.  
  
"No, she headed home," Steve looked off down the beach before turning back. "but don't worry she'll be coming back."  
  
Mark smiled, "Come on in and get yourself cleaned up, dinner's waiting."  
  
Steve hung back a moment looking up into the stars of the night sky, feeling more content than he could ever remember, knowing that he could finally lay his past to rest and move on. Then he turned to join his family inside  
  
THE END.  
  
Author's note:- Okay finally finished. I hope you have enjoyed reading this as much as I have enjoyed writing it. Please let me know what you think And once again :- thank you, thank you, thank you to anyone who has left/ leaves a review, every one is greatly appreciated.  
  
Judith 


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